"Project Ares," Cassian repeated, staring at the black screen where Clara's message had vanished. "Rook, get Sienna on the secure line. Now."
I paced the study, my bare feet sinking into the plush Persian rug. My mind was racing. The water was cold. That meant she was likely in the North Atlantic. But "Project Ares"? That sounded military. Industrial.
The large monitor on the wall flickered to life.
Sienna appeared. She was in her penthouse at the Ivory Tower, wearing a silk robe and holding a glass of wine. She looked annoyed, but beneath the makeup, she looked tired.
"It's 3:00 AM," Sienna drawled. "Unless the building is on fire, this better be good."
"We have a heartbeat," I said, stepping into the frame. "Clara is alive."
Sienna dropped her glass. It didn't break (carpet), but red wine splashed onto her white furniture. She didn't notice.
"Alive?" Sienna whispered. "How?"
