The floor halts underfoot. With a ding overhead, the doors slowly part. I peer into the hallway while shouts rise from the bottom floor. Security guards rush past the elevator, and several pairs of feet pound on the stairs. I tug the suitcase out and head in the opposite direction. There's a door at the end of the corridor, and I push through it, leading to another maze of corridors. A few other people are here and there, but none pay me much mind.

I park the suitcase in the corner. My arms feel as floppy and tired as noodles. I crouch down, pretending to be looking for something in the suitcase's pocket.

"Where to now?"

"Did you make a left or a right after exiting the elevator?"

"A right."

There's a beat of silence from the suitcase. "That's the wrong way. You needed to go left."

I roll my eyes. Why didn't you say so before?

"You should come to a locked door. Wait for someone to pass by, then tell them that you have a delivery to make."

"And if someone doesn't?" Seconds tick by. After a minute, it becomes clear that she doesn't intend to reply.

I poke my head back into the corridor. A raucous has begun down below, though I can barely make out what the guards are saying. Anxiety prickles at my skin. Even if I made it into the order's headquarters, there's no guarantee I'll make it out alive.

I roll the suitcase around the corner. Past the elevator, I see a potential door that Tabitha may have been referring to. A man in a suit stalks toward it, hands buried deep in his pockets.

"Excuse me," I call out. "I have a delivery to make."

The man pauses, his eyes fixating on me. "What delivery?"

I swallow. "I have a piece of metal that was inside the angelfish."

Recognition sweeps across his tanned face. "Ah yes. The angelfish. Right this way." His eyes drift to the suitcase. "But you'll have to leave that behind."

"The metal is in the..."

"Get it out." He smiles. "You know, safety procedures."

"Of course." My throat feels dry as I bend down. Slowly, I reach my hand into the front pocket. It's completely empty, but I mimic slipping something into my pocket. I stand with an equally bright grin. "I'm all set."

I wheel the suitcase to the side, then follow the man behind the door, into a narrow, dimly lit corridor. It feels more like ambient lighting than anything else. The low light is bright and clear, shining on the beige tiles on the ground. A slight scent of lavender permeates the air, though I can't tell if it was put there on purpose or if someone just used way too much perfume this morning.

"Head to the drop-off room," the man says. He slips into a room, shutting the door behind him before I can see inside. I hurry my pace to the end of the hallway, glancing at each door, wondering which one is the drop-off room.

The doors at the end of the hall are the same as the others I passed. None give any indication as to which might be the drop-off room. I glance over my shoulder, wondering how Tabitha is doing. She never told me where I'd find the vault.

I groan internally. Tabitha really ought to learn how to give better directions. As I mull over what to do next, the very last door opens. I glimpse a giant, metal door behind it as a woman passes through.

"Whoops. Are you looking for the drop-off room?" she asks in a honeyed voice.

"Yes."

"It's two doors down, on your right."

"Oh thanks."

"No problem." She flashes me a grin before heading down the hall. I watch her exit through the door, letting in a fleeting stream of fluorescent light, before the door shuts again.

I turn back to the door. I could try to pick the lock, but with so many people milling about, there's a good chance I'll be discovered.

If I'm really nonchalant, maybe no one will notice. My hand dips into my pocket, and I grab the scrubber tool Tabitha insisted I bring with me, just in case. I sidle up to the door, leaning against it and hoping that my all-black attire blends into the darkness. With my coat sleeve pulled down over my hand, I'm able to cover the knob as I move the scrubber back and forth.

The lock clicks. I slip inside the door, shutting it behind me. I whirl around only to come face-to-face with a gun barrel.

"This room is off-limits," the blonde woman says. She levels the gun at my chest, hands poised over the trigger.

I back up against the vault door. My hands fly up over my head, and the lock pick slips from my grasp, clattering on the floor. The woman stalks forward, pressing the gun underneath my chin.

"Who are you, and who do you work for?"

"I... uh... no one. I mean, I work for you."

"Nice try." Steely blue eyes bear into me with an unrelenting, interrogating gaze. "Who do you work for?"

I clear my throat. "Myself. No one but myself."

"We'll see how long you stick to your story." The woman lifts a walkie-talkie from her waistband. "I'm going to need backup in the vault. Repeat, intruder in the vault. I need backup."

A scraping sound comes from the other side of the door. I glance down at the handle, as does the blonde. Her jaw shifts side to side for a second, then she places a tentative hand on the knob, turning it.

The door cracks open, only for something to whizz out from behind it. The woman staggers back with a gasp. Her gun fires, and I jump away from a flying bullet. Tabitha slams the door shut, then races to the vault.

"Come on. This place is about to be flooded."

"I thought you were going to stay in the suitcase!" I call after her. I run into the vault only for my breath to catch. Amid glittering jewels, crowns, gold bars, and stacks of money, there's an entire shelf lined with various antique pieces in various stages of assembly. Tabitha lifts a stringed instrument from the shelf. It sort of resembles a miniature harp, with a curved top and sides slanted slightly outward. The bottom is straight, enabling it to stand upright on the shelf.

"Just one string is missing," Tabitha whispers, stroking the instrument absently. She turns around. "Cleo, I have the last piece!"

"Sure, but it doesn't do much good if we can't get out."

"Oh, I'm sure there's a way. We got in, right?"

"Yes. And if you had stayed in the suitcase..."

"You would've been dead."

I sigh. "Well, then why didn't you come in here by yourself?"

"Too risky. They might have recognized me." She strolls out of the vault. Feet pound down the corridor outside, and my heart's tempo picks up to match it.

"How are we—"

"Shh," Tabitha says. "You wait out here. They're going to try to get the vault open. I'll wait behind the other door."

"But they'll kill me!"

"Stay!" Tabitha hurries behind the door. My gaze whips between her and the door. The scraping has returned, and the door's handle turns in place. A surge of anger accompanies my fear. Tabitha set me up. She's using me as the bait. After all, as far as they heard, there's "an intruder," not two.

I should've known she'd double-cross. All she cares about are her own selfish goals. I was just a means to an end, a way for her to achieve her grand theft. I never should've trusted her or aided her in exchange for my life.

The door bangs open. Six guards pour into the room while a few other faces peer around the corner.

"Freeze!" one commands.

"On your knees!"

I drop onto my knees with a crunch. Pain shoots through my legs, and tears collect in my eyes. All this because of a wardrobe and a car. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"There's—"

"Silence!" someone booms from behind the door. A hand shoves my back. My hands shoot out, stopping my cheek from landing on the floor. The words I was about to say fly from my head as the world spins around me.

"You're coming with me."

Two guards grab my arms. My jeans skid across the floor as I'm pulled to the door. Through bleary eyes, I can make out several people in black uniform, all clustered by the open door.

The grip on my arm falls slack. Confusion jolts through me before I notice another body on the floor. Then several more guards collapse one by one. The rush of blood and adrenaline in my ears clears just enough for me to hear several more bullets fire in rapid succession. I duck down as the path clears.

"Grab the gun!" Tabitha yells behind me.

I look around. A gun lies beside me, clutched in the limp hands of the person at my side. I snatch it and hold it out with trembling hands. My fingers curl around the trigger, though they feel too limp to actually pull it.

A man storms the room only to drop from another bullet coming from the vault. I hide behind the door, out of the fray, while Tabitha picks off those who enter. Then, gun held straight in front of her, she stalks from the vault. In her other hand, she holds a large, shield-like object that covers the front of her body.

"Grab one," she says. "There's another shield in the vault."

I dare to poke my head back inside. On the floor, there's another golden shield. I hold in front of my body, mimicking Tabitha's stance as we exit in the hallway. Bullets ping off the curved metal's exterior, but Tabitha storms forward with expert precision, aiming at the briefcases people hold up in feeble defense. The people in suits and work office attire disappear behind doorways before they too are shot.

We're nearing the end of the hall when the door swings open. Sunlight blinds my eyes, and bullets explode from the opening.

"Run for it!" Tabitha screams.

Pain sears my legs, then my arms. I grit my teeth against the pain, trying to push through onto the second floor landing. A line of security guards sits across from the door, all behind shields and with guns poised. Pure adrenaline keeps me running after Tabitha, who heads straight for the window.

"Tabitha!" I screech. My face is slick from tears and snot. Every breath is a hysterical, crying gasp. My feet stumble, my pace slowing. I can't keep up.

More guards race up the stairwell, cutting off Tabitha's exit. She fires at them twice, but her trajectory is straight for the glass windows that encircle the top floor. Her hand dips into her pocket, and she tosses something at the window. At the last moment, she races to the side, ducking behind a couch pressed against the wall and angling her shield to the window.

I push myself to reach her side, ducking down beside her. "Tabitha, what's happening?"

Boom!

Glass and debris rains overhead. I hold up the shield, wedging myself between the couch and the large, metal shield. Still, jagged pieces cut into my scalp, face, and hands. Debris thuds against my shield, whacking my skull every time it moves down. A dial tone rings in my ears.

My gaze flits to Tabitha, whose hand is searching for something in her pocket. She removes a coil of rope from it.

"We'll have to swing out of here," she says. "I'll toss the rope back once I'm out." The pounding pressure lightens around us. Tabitha glances out, nods to me. "It's clear."

She moves out from behind the couch just as one last glass shard flies through the air. It slices through her hand. She gives a tiny yelp in pain as blood blooms across a scarlet gash, stretching the length of her palm. She drops her rope momentarily, but grits her teeth and lifts it from the floor, painting the brown fibers with red.

I follow Tabitha to the window. She ties the end of the rope around the banister, firing a shot at a guard racing toward us. Feet pound on the stairwell. Now that the debris is mostly past, they're coming back for us.

Tabitha grabs hold of the rope. "See you on the other side." And with that, she wraps her arms around the rope and slides down it, through the exploded window and to the ground below.

I climb onto the rope next. Every fiber in my body trembles, but one thought overwhelms every other sense in my body:

Escape. Survive.

I wrap my arms around the rough textured rope, lowering myself over the side.

Right, left, right—

A hand grasps my wrists. Fear pierces straight through my heart, knocking the air from my lungs. I look up into the blazing eyes of a female security guard. Another set of hands reaches over the sides, and together, two guards pull me back up.

"No! Tabitha!" I scream. I try to look over my shoulder, at the ground, but my vision is blurry. A cloud has settled over my head, and the world seems faint, out of focus.

Pain explodes all over my body. It hits me all at once, one gruesome wave that I'm only processing now.

I'm dragged onto glass shards and fragmented wood. My eyes roll from the security guards to my legs. Blood soaks my jeans, which are riddled with holes from where the shield did not cover me.

"Ow," is all I can manage, followed by a series of groans. Then my head hits the floor, and everything falls into darkness.