She turned to Agatha, and for a wild, hopeful moment, Agatha thought she saw an apology forming. Instead, Eve pressed a small, smooth object into Agatha’s palm. A spare key.

They moved. Two shadows flowing through the smoke-choked service corridors. The building's emergency lights painted everything in bloody red. When they reached the stairwell door, Agatha grabbed Eve’s arm, spinning her around.

The long con wasn't over. It was just changing hands.