Third person’s POV

The morning sun spills through the glass walls of the office building, casting long shadows across the polished floors of the lobby. Dean and Daniella crouch behind the wide leaves of a massive potted plant, hearts hammering, their small bodies pressed flat against the ceramic pot. Every sound, footsteps clicking on the marble floor, muffled conversations, the distant whirr of the elevators, feels amplified, and each one threatens to give them away.

“Are you sure no ...