Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Novalee
The wind on the rooftop slices through my thin, long-sleeved shirt. I release my breath slowly as I pull a dark cloth over the security camera next to the exit, stretching it tight to block the lens. The fabric clings to my sweaty palms, but I secure it in place, hoping it’ll hold long enough to keep me off the radar.
Getting up here had gone perfectly, every step falling into place like it was scripted. Sylus was right. It seems even the employees couldn’t resist the spectacle. Most of them are either on the street below or pressed to the windows, catching glimpses of the show. The empty hallways made it easy for me to slip through unnoticed, using Belmont’s master key card and Sylus’s button combination to summon the elevator straight to the rooftop.
I glance around, ensuring the roof is empty, before running over to the edge. The street below pulses with life, the lights of the Strip illuminating the crowd like a glittering sea.
From this height, the cheers and gasps from the audience sound muted, almost distant, but I catch Levi’s voice ringing through the speakers. “Hold your Ace of Hearts up high! Show me your cards!”
I lean over the edge, gripping the railing tightly as I watch. Movement goes through the crowd as hundreds of people lift their cards into the air.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. My stomach churns as I glance down at the impossible drop beneath me. I almost forgot. Or maybe I suppressed it.
This is high. More than high.
My pulse quickens as the realization of just how far Koen will have to literally push this hits me again.
One miscalculation.
That’s all it’ll take. A slight wrong angle, the tiniest shift in timing, and Koen could go from Vegas’s greatest magician to its biggest headline tragedy.
Is this insane stunt worth it?
I think about the evidence, the mountain of incriminating data I’m going to pack into the Lamborghini Huracán. If this works, the press will feast on the information like vultures, and her empire will collapse overnight.
But would it really stop everything if we didn’t take this risk? Wouldn’t the truth spread like wildfire anyway?
I hesitate, gripping the railing tighter. But then I remember. This isn’t just their plan. This is Oscar’s plan. He would have gone through with this, too, and Oscar never would’ve greenlit something that put Koen in real danger.
At least, I don’t think he would have.
It’s not like I knew the man.
My fingers flex and release on the metal as doubt gnaws at the edges of my resolve, but then I force myself to tear my gaze away from the rooftop of the Heights. There’s no time for last-minute doubts.
Ace’s voice comes through. “I’m in position.”
“Hold,” comes Sylus’s answer.
Fuck, I need to hurry the fuck up.
I’m relieved when I find the wooden planks still hidden behind the cluster of decorative cacti next to me. Crouching low, I tug one free from its hiding spot. The planks are heavier than I expected—definitely heavier than I’d imagined when Sylus pointed them out.
“Dammit.” I strain to pull the first one out. My arms protest, burning with the effort, but I grit my teeth and drag it free, the edge scraping against the rooftop floor.
The second and third planks follow, each one a little more awkward to maneuver. Sylus and Ace must have muscles of steel because even with the adrenaline coursing through me, they feel like dead weight.
Sweat drips down the back of my neck as I haul the planks to the spot they marked. One by one, I position them, each landing into place with a dull thud. It’s not pretty, but pretty doesn’t matter right now.
I step back, catching my breath as I survey the ramp. “Please don’t break,” I whisper, the words almost a prayer. This has to work. It has to.
“I hope you’re not talking about yourself, baby,” Sylus’s voice crackles through the earpiece, his usual teasing laced with a hint of tension.
“Nope,” I shoot back, eyeing the planks warily. “Just the pile of firewood that’s supposed to catapult Koen into the air.”
“Great. Love the confidence,” Sylus quips, but there’s an edge to his humor, one I don’t miss.
“You’re done?” Ace cuts in.
“With the ramp, yeah,” I reply, brushing a stray strand of hair off my damp forehead. “Now I have to break the Lambo free.”
“Not to rush you or anything,” Sylus adds. “But you better hurry, Sparkle. Show’s not gonna wait for you.”
“Yeah, thanks for that,” I mutter as I turn and start running to the Lambo parked at the far end of the rooftop bar in its glass container.
All I have to do is manage to get in the box and the car without setting off every alarm in Vegas.
I take a deep breath and make my way toward it.
You’ve got this, Nova. One step at a time.
I crouch in front of the glass enclosure, and the wind pulls at my braid as I pull the tools and flashlight from my backpack and get out Belmont’s key card again.
I press it to the RFID scanner, waiting with a thundering heart for it to unlock. The screen flashes green, and I hear the satisfying click of the mechanism disengaging. I exhale slowly and tug at the handles. The doors open outward with a soundless motion.
“One down,” I whisper, tucking the card away.
“Good girl,” comes Sylus’s answer in my ear.
The Lamborghini is a perfect beast in its glass cage. Now, to get inside without triggering the car’s alarm system.
Piece of cake.
I slide into the glass enclosure and kneel by the driver’s side door, my hands steady despite the nervous energy crackling in my chest. Most modern luxury cars have keyless entry, but they still rely on proximity sensors. Thankfully, Sylus prepared for this too.
From my backpack, I retrieve the bypass module. It looks like a remote control, but it disrupts the car’s alarm system long enough for me to get in. I activate it with a quiet click, holding my breath as I press it against the driver’s door handle.
The signal jammer hums faintly, and I watch as the lock’s tiny LED indicator flickers from red to green. “Please work,” I mutter as I grip the handle and pull. The door opens with a click , and I almost sag with relief.
I slide into the driver’s seat. The scent of leather and new car polish fills the cabin. The dash faintly lights up, the car’s systems waiting for the signal from the key fob that isn’t here. I take out the flash drive Sylus prepared to connect to the network on the Heights’ rooftop from my backpack and put it down next to me on the passenger seat.
Done.
Then I locate the diagnostic port beneath the dash and plug the module in. The device lights up with a faint blue glow.
“C’mon, c’mon,” I mutter under my breath as it works its magic, sending a series of codes to the car’s system.
The dashboard flickers to life, and the engine rumbles softly to indicate it’s primed and ready.
Thank fuck.
“Sparkle, looks like you’re in?”
“In and ready,” I reply, sliding my hands over the steering wheel.
I glance at the ramp I painstakingly built in the distance, only faintly illuminated against the void between rooftops. My heart pounds as I steel myself for the next phase.
Come on, Koen.
It’s time to make this thing fly.