[POV: Sofia Lanka]

"If you don't keep that flashlight down, Zara, we’re both going to end up in a Syndicate-funded incinerator before I even reach the elevator."

Sofia’s whisper was sharp, cutting through the heavy, humid air of the villa’s service tunnels. Her hands were raw from a six-hour shift scrubbing linens in the basement laundry, the scent of industrial bleach clinging to her skin like a second, unwanted layer. She adjusted the oversized, grey housekeeper’s tunic that felt like a shroud. This was her house—the place where she had picked out the curtains and celebrated her children’s milestones—and yet she was moving through its bowels like a common rat....