Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 62

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Just like old times, my hands are steady.

Clothed in a pair of thin black leather gloves, my fingers shimmy the two warped bobby pins. The thin wires poke at the lock mechanisms, pushing and prodding.

Lockpicking is just another thing that I learned in East Harlem. I never put it to use, but Will Whistle did teach me how to pick a lock when I was eleven years old.

I don't know why he bothered. Maybe he wanted to impart some of his thug knowledge to me. One day, he hauled me upstairs to one of the vacant apartment units in our building and plucked two bobby pins from my hair. I had just come from ballet.

Mom and Dad wouldn't have been happy had I told them what their landlord taught me.

But all good thieves should know how to pick a lock.

Leaning against the white wooden door, Tyton watches me from an arm's length, his phone flashlight pointed at the lock. His steady breaths in my ear are the only sounds in the whole damn building.

I've settled into this calm, out-of-my-body feeling. It's the same sensation I've gotten every time I've ever reached into somebody's jeans pocket.

It's like I know that I'm doing something wrong but can't feel it.

Rafe's meandered down the hallway to wait at the steps. Ella's on the other side of me, ready to stand guard should somebody come wandering down here and we have to hide.

Ada Wallace managed to hack into the Academy's security cameras some odd minutes ago. They're currently looping over themselves in pitch-blackness.

Just as I'm about to let out a growl of frustration, I hit the last key pin in the lock. A satisfying little click echoes down the corridor.

"About time," Tyton mutters in my ear. "Good job, Mare."

He's mocking me. We're breaking into the office of the richest man in Manhattan, and he's mocking me.

"It only took me two minutes," I hiss back, glaring at Tyton. I have to crane my neck to look him in the eye. "I'm out of practice, okay?"

Tyton offers me a smirk as he wraps his own gloved hand around the silver door knob and gives it a twist. He flings Tiberias Calore's office door open, and then I'm staring at a familiar scene of wood floorboards, plush leather furniture, cascading curtains, and a hulking black desk.

The blinding flashlight throws the office into pale white light. Shadows shift as Tyton waves around his phone, assessing the sprawling space.

His hand is at the small of my back, nudging me into the office. My socks lightly slap at the wood, and Tyton slips in behind me, the door closing silently on us.

My eyes narrow in on the scene to my left. I take in the onyx desk and the guest chairs before it. The gorgeous accent rug, mahogany-colored and the same as always, patiently waits before Mister Calore's desk. Massive bookshelves still border the wall behind the desk, orderly lined with a thousand texts on business. In the shadows that I can't see, a chandelier dances above my head. On the other side of the room, the leather couches bleed back into darkness as Tyton shifts his flashlight away.

"So."

Tyton dares further into the room, wandering in the direction of the desk. His flashlight illuminates its computer and desk light and file folders. Mister Calore has a couple of knick-knacks between a Mets bobblehead, a golden songbird figurine, and three wooden photo frames. His papers and pens are arranged in a perfectly neat manner. It's much easier to look at than Julian's desk.