The week leading up to the gathering passed in a blur of preparation and nervous energy.
Marco had me memorize everything we knew about Selene's inner circle – the regulars who frequented her VIP section, their allegiances, their weaknesses. Elena spent hours teaching me how to recognize different types of wards so I could scout the upper floors without triggering alarms.
Tommy provided me with a contact lens – magical tech hybrid – that would record everything I saw for later analysis.
"Don't get caught with this," he said as he fitted it. "If Selene realizes you're recording her private space, you're dead. And I mean actually dead, not 'mission failed' dead."
"Comforting."
"I'm serious. This thing is cutting edge, but it's not infallible. She's got detection spells that could pick it up if she's actively scanning."
"Then I'll make sure she's not actively scanning."
