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“Can I know the details?”

She shakes her head. She’s still working on the plan to get me out of Rian’s clutches, but it’s not solid yet.

“Any chance I’ll see you when this is all done?” I ask, finally pulling out of my mom’s embrace.

Her smile is hard. Worried.

“I hope so,” she says, doubt evident. She pauses. “Ada? I am so,soproud of you.”

I give her a flat look. “You know I’m only in this for fun and profit.”

“Still.” Mom tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. She hates the way I have it cut; I cut it this way partly because she hates it so much. It’s how we work.

If she opens the door, I want to stay. If she closes it, I want to go. I define myself as a reaction to her definitions.

“How early are you leaving tomorrow?” Mom asks.

“Very.” I tell her the time I have set on my alarm.

“I have a present for you before you go.”

Ah, there it is. The reason why she sent a message to Bruna to relay to me, the reason why she made sure she was here and insisted that we stay when I arrived.

She wants to help me escape the trap Rian has laid for me.

I give her a look, and she shrugs. She doesn’t know the specifics of how Rian will betray me.

She only knows he will.

He’s going to betray me.I knew it was a possibility from the start. But a part of me had believed in penthouse suites and luxury peaches and more than a night. More than a night.

He’ll wait, of course, for the mission to be a success. He knows that I’m the linchpin in reprogramming the nanobots, so he’ll make sure I can do the job. But after? That’s when he’ll strike.

A job isn’t finished when the last piece of the puzzle falls into place.

A job is only finished after the getaway.

8

We’re all up before the sun the next morning.

Rian and I sit at the table in the main room; there’s more space here than in the cramped personal living area one floor down. Rian’s jazzed up the standard-issue clothes I got for him with his coat from the gala, the informal balancing out the ultra-formal in a look that I could see some feeds picking up as a new trend, especially paired with the easy way Rian wears it all. My outfit is simple enough, all skintight black, and that gives enough of an air of elegance that will allow me to pass through Fetor Tech unnoticed. I catch Rian appreciating the way the slinky material clings to my body. I wonder if he’s realized loose clothing is a liability, something easily grabbed.

Mom bustles around, ostensibly giving us food and filling my coffee cup as soon as I take a sip. But there’s a method to her movements, purpose in every trip downstairs. While Rian spent the night in “my” bedroom, I slept in my mother’s bed...but she wasn’t there all night. There were a lot of moving parts to pin down for her operation.

Rian and I are planning a heist that requires precise timing and luck; Mom’s planning something else just as precarious. It’s strange to share a table with so many secrets.

When Mom goes up to feed the birds, I pull out a thin sheet of plastic speckled with tiny clear stickers: two round ones and two rectangles.

I peel off one circular sticker and press it into the smooth skin behind my left ear, the one without an earring. There’s a little bead in the center of the sticker, and I push it hard against my skull. I take one rectangular sticker and smooth it down just below the collar of my shirt, in the hollow space above my clavicle, under my throat.

When I pass him the plastic sheet, Rian does the same.

Bone-conducting hearing devices behind our ears, subvocal transmitters at our throats. Crude technology, but it works.

Testing, I say without opening my lips or moving my jaw. It’s barely a hum; if we weren’t in a silent, empty room, even I wouldn’t be able to hear the sound.

A moment later, the robotic voice translating Rian’s subvocal reply vibrates in my bone-conducting audio transmitter:Received.