Chapter 44: Blackout Protocol

The pitch-black room didn't stay quiet for long. Between the high-pitched whining of dying capacitors and the groans of broken corporate enforcers, Adrian was already making zero effort to act professional.

He had Mari pinned up against the main power grid console, his massive hands locked around her thighs while his hot, sweat-soaked chest heaved against hers.

"Adrian," Mari panted, her fingers tangled in his hair as he bit a sharp, bruising line down her collarbone. "We are literally standing in six inches of toxic waste and defeated executives."

"They can watch," Adrian growled into her neck, his voice a low, filthy rumble that rattled right through her armor. His heavy hips shoved aggressively forward, pinning her flush against the cold steel of the console until she let out a breathy, shameless gasp.

"Actually, please don't make us watch," Ren shouted from the darkness, his wrist console casting a faint blue glow over his smirk as he looted an unconscious suit's Rolex. "I’m trying to hack into the Empire State Building's security protocols, and the ambient sexual tension is making the Wi-Fi lag."

"I think it's inspiring!" Kael called out from down the catwalk. He was casually sitting on an enforcer’s chest while using a high-end tactical laser to cut a pepperoni pizza he’d pulled out of the breakroom mini-fridge. "Hey, boss! Does the new Roman Empire cover worker's comp? Because I think I sprained my ankle kicking that guy through the vending machine."

"You sprained it because you tried to do a backflip off a fire extinguisher, you lunatic," Sera deadpanned, her icy voice cutting through the dark as she casually froze the lock on the exit hatch and shattered it with a tap of her boot.

Mari let out a throaty laugh, shoving Adrian back just enough to look into his dark, hungry eyes. "You heard the crew, brute. Empire first. Seduction in the penthouse."

Adrian let out a deep, disappointed growl that sounded like an idling engine, but he squeezed her waist one last time—hard enough to leave a bruise—before letting her boots hit the ground. "Fine. But the penthouse bed better be target number one."

"Deal," Mari purred, slapping his heavy rear plate with a loud CLANG that echoed down the dark tunnel. "Move out, team! Next stop, Times Square!"