I lunged at the billionaire’s flawless bride right in the middle of the wedding reception, throwing the entire ballroom into chaos—but I had to do it to expose the sinister trap she had placed beneath his seat before it was too late.

The air inside the shaft grew thick and metallic. My lungs burned as I kicked my legs out, driving myself through the final three yards of the rectangular steel pipe. Ahead, a faint square of yellow light shone through a plastic decorative vent cover.

"Julian!" Sebastian yelled, his voice echoing loudly in the steel tube.

Through the vent slats, I could see the nursery. It was a spacious, brightly painted room filled with wooden toys, a plush rocking chair, and a white canopy crib in the center.

Sitting on the edge of the crib was a small boy in navy blue pajamas, clutching a stuffed elephant. He was rubbing his eyes, coughing softly as a faint, translucent mist began streaming out of the ceiling vents above him.

"Julian! Stay down!" Sebastian shouted, shoving past my legs to slam his shoulder into the plastic vent cover.

The plastic cracked, but held. The heavy industrial screws securing it to the drywall were anchored tightly.

"Move aside!" I pulled my utility blade, jamming the steel tip into the seam between the frame and the drywall, leveraging all my body weight against the plaster.

CRACK!

The frame tore free, raining drywall dust down into the room. Sebastian tumbled through the opening, landing hard on the carpeted floor, instantly scrambling to his feet and sprinting to the crib.

He scooped the small boy into his arms, pulling his pajama top over the child’s nose and mouth. "I've got you, buddy. I've got you."

"The air is contaminated!" I shouted, dropping down from the vent onto a wooden toy chest. "The main door is locked from the outside! We need to seal the vents before the concentration reaches lethal levels!"

I grabbed the heavy velvet curtains from the nursery window, ripping them down from their brass rods with a violent yank. I stuffed the thick fabric directly into the ceiling air registers, jamming them shut with the leg of a wooden chair.

Julian coughed against Sebastian’s shoulder, his small hands clutching his uncle’s tuxedo lapels. "Uncle Seb... the light on the wall went red. The lady told me it was a game."

"It's not a game, Julian," Sebastian whispered, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he pressed his forehead against the boy's dark curls. "It's over now. I'm here."

I stood near the heavy oak bedroom door, pressing my ear against the panel. Heavy, rhythmic footsteps were echoing down the third-floor corridor.

"Marcus’s men," I said, turning back to Sebastian. "They know we took the intake duct. They'll be here in thirty seconds."

Sebastian set Julian down behind the solid mahogany changing table, out of the direct line of sight from the door. He turned to me, his expression transformed. The shock and disbelief that had paralyzed him in the ballroom were entirely gone. In their place was a cold, calculating ruthlessness that explained how he had built a multi-billion-dollar energy empire before the age of thirty-five.

"Aaliyah," he said, his voice flat and precise. "How long does it take to reverse the intake on that HVAC line?"

"If I can reach the secondary control panel in the linen closet across the hall... ten seconds," I answered. "Why?"

"Because Marcus Vance doesn't know you managed to seal these vents," Sebastian replied, reaching down to unlace his leather dress shoes. "He thinks we're trapped in a room filling with neurotoxin."

"You want to use the gas against them," I said, a slow, approving smile breaking across my face.