"No, you won't," Eve said, and for the first time, her sea-glass eyes looked genuinely sad. "Because you still want to believe I'll show up at that villa. And that's the cruelest con of all—making someone hope."
Agatha stood alone in the penthouse, the key digging into her palm. The alarms were seconds away. The warlord was moaning. And somewhere over the neon labyrinth of the city, Eve Sweet was already gone, leaving behind nothing but a promise that felt like a noose. long con part 3 agatha vega, eve sweet
Agatha looked at the key. Then at the window. "No, you won't," Eve said, and for the
Eve stood, smoothing down her cream-colored blouse. A single smudge of soot marked her collar. "I elevated you. Now move. The east stairwell is clear. We go up, take the prize, and we're ghosts in three minutes." The alarms were seconds away
"You're not coming?" Agatha’s blood ran cold.
Because Eve had forgotten one thing. Agatha Vega didn't do hope. She did leverage. And before she’d even entered this building, she’d planted a tracker on Eve’s zip-line rig.