A week and some days later...
**Ding**
The elevator doors parted with a quiet hiss, revealing the sleek hallway of a penthouse. The floor was polished to a mirrored sheen, the walls a matte obsidian with narrow light strips flowing up like molten silver veins.
The sound of footsteps—three sets—broke the silence as Amanda, Samantha, and Summer stepped out, their silhouettes backlit by the elevator glow.
Amanda whistled low, flipping her flannel off her waist and letting it dangle from her hand.
"Well, this is nice," she said, eyes scanning the open foyer. "We should be in danger more often."
Samantha shot her a sideways glare, her face mask shifting slightly as she adjusted it. "It's not funny," she muttered. "This isn't a vacation. We're in the middle of a crisis."
"Crisis, spa day, new penthouse," Amanda shrugged, padding across the cool floor in flip-flops. "Lines are blurry."
