The museum slept beneath a velvet sky, its marble facade gleaming faintly under the glow of the moon. Inside, silence ruled—thick and watchful—broken only by the soft hum of security lasers and the distant sweep of automated guards.

Aria Vale moved like a shadow through the rafters.

Black leather, black gloves, black mask—her reflection barely existed in the glass cases she passed. Every step was measured, graceful, silent. She’d studied the floor plan for weeks, memorized every shift ...