Chapter 12

The air in the service crawl space near Studio B’s sound-mixing room was thick with dust and the metallic tang of old wiring. Mara, hunched low, the encrypted data stick hot in her grip, felt the minutes bleed away, each tick a tightening of the crawl space walls. Adrian Sloane had already revoked her archive access, a procedural strike confirming he knew she was digging. Now, his security sweep was a tightening net, its drag felt even in this hidden space. Every distant footstep, every muted voice from the studio above, vibrated through the metal grate beneath her, a direct threat closing in.

Her laptop screen, a stark blue rectangle, cut through the gloom. Lena