Clara's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that threatened to crack her chest wide open. The cold steel of the hammer hovered above her, a brutal guillotine waiting to sever not her head, but her soul. Her hands were her livelihood. Her identity.

Marcus's grip on her wrist was bone-

The heavy steel doors of the warehouse groaned and gave way completely, slamming against the concrete floor with a sound like a thunderclap. Dust plumed into the air, illuminated by the harsh, blinding beams of tactical flashlights cutting through the gloom.

"Sterling!" a voice roared.

Clara’s h

The limousine glided to a halt in front of the Grand Atrium, its tires whispering against the rain-slicked pavement. Outside, the night was ablaze with the blinding flashes of paparazzi cameras and the glow of spotlights sweeping across the museum’s neoclassical facade. A towering banner draped betw