Mind Code (Coded Connections Duet #2)

Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Grey

Sunday night has settled over Seattle, the city’s hum providing a soft backdrop to the quiet in the apartment. Our home office is dimly lit, screens flickering with various camera feeds of Elysium’s hallways.

I’ve spent hours planning this, ensuring that any trace of tonight’s activities goes unnoticed. Tapping away on the keyboard, I manipulate the security system with precision as a bead of sweat trickles down my forehead.

The stakes are high, but the reward is worth it.

Across the street, Oliver and Misha are gearing up, buckets and plastic bags in hand, ready to liberate some neon tetras from corporate life.

“We’re in position, Grey. You sure we’re all clear?” Misha’s excited voice crackles through my earpiece—a twin to the ones he and Oliver are wearing that we bought for a Comic-Con cosplay once—tinged with both excitement and a hint of nervousness. My heart races as I watch them on the camera feeds, each movement carefully choreographed.

I toggle between feeds intently, my fingers hovering over the controls. Amelia is sleeping in my bed a few rooms down, oblivious to what we’re about to do, and the thought of her reaction when she discovers our surprise keeps me focused.

“Clear as day,” I respond, keeping my voice steady. “Stick to the plan, and no one will ever know you were there.”

“Copy that,” Oliver chimes in, sounding more self-assured than I expected. “Heading to the tank now.”

I hold my breath as they navigate through the dimly lit corridors, the soft glow of the neon tetras visible even through the grainy security feed. The cylindrical tank looms before them, and the fish dart about in mesmerizing patterns.

“How did I never notice how tall those damn things are? How did Amelia manage that?” Misha’s muttered comment brings a smirk to my face.

Oliver gives Misha a once-over and grins. “Looks like you’re going to need a boost, short stack.”

I chuckle.

God, I love how much of a confidence boost Oliver’s gotten since Amelia stepped into our lives.

Or since we plowed into hers.

Misha’s half-amused, half-exasperated response only adds to my amusement. “Seriously? I’m not that short.”

Debatable.

“Yeah, well, this tank begs to differ,” Oliver quips back. “Come on, I’ll lift you.”

Misha prepares himself, setting the buckets down and grabbing a plastic bag and a net. Oliver hoists him up, and for a moment, Misha wobbles precariously before finding his balance.

I let out a relieved breath.

“You know, we could just tell Elysium we’d leave to work for the competition if they didn’t get rid of these tanks,” Misha mutters, carefully dipping the net into the water. “They’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Oliver retorts, holding Misha steady as he focuses on scooping up the fish.

Misha rolls his eyes as he finally manages to corner a few of the neon tetras. “I don’t know if enjoying criminal activities makes you stupid or dumb,” he mutters, though his tone is more playful than anything.

“I’ve never been called either,” Oliver says, grinning. “Now, hurry up before my arms give out.”

My heart skips a beat as Misha’s triumphant voice fills the air. “Got ’em!” he announces, as I’m leaning in closer to my screen, wanting to feel like part of the action. I watch as he carefully slides the fish into the water-filled plastic bag and secures it before Oliver smoothly lowers him back to the floor.

“Good job,” I praise through the earpiece, rallying their motivation for the task ahead. “Only about nine hundred more to go.”

Misha’s groan of frustration is so dramatic that I have to stifle a laugh. “Do we really have to grab all of them ?” he whines. “This is insane. I bet…” he trails off, counting the ones in the bag. “…three are enough to show her our goodwill.”

I shake my head, even though they can’t see me. “We’ll grab enough so Amelia’s aquarium is full. I’ve already informed Animal Welfare, and they said the Seattle Aquarium will take the rest. They’ll probably get them tomorrow afternoon.”

I’m quite proud of myself for thinking ahead on this one.

“God, this will take all night,” Misha grumbles while he places the bag into the bucket beside him.

“Probably,” I agree, feeling a twinge of guilt for not being there in person. “But let’s not actually take all night. We need to get this done before anyone shows up.” I glance at the clock, acutely aware of the ticking time.

“Says the one sitting on his ass at home,” Misha grumbles, and I raise an eyebrow at his sass.

“What did you say?” I ask, with a mixture of amusement and warning.

“Nothing,” Misha lies, and I can practically hear the innocent smile in his voice. I watch as Oliver crouches again, ready to lift Misha for another round.

They repeat the process, each time getting a bit smoother as they fall into a rhythm—Oliver lifting, Misha scooping, and the tetras quickly finding a new home in the plastic bags. The hallway remains eerily silent, save for the soft sound of water splashing and the occasional muttered curse from Misha.

“How’s it looking out there?” Oliver asks after a while, glancing nervously toward the building’s entrance, tension clear in his posture.

My eyes dart across the multiple camera feeds on my screen. “Still clear,” I confirm. “‘I’ll be ready if anything changes. You’re good.”

They continue with their mission, carefully transferring the fish, and the buckets begin to fill, but the tank still holds hundreds of neon tetras.

Misha nets another batch of fish then a sudden noise echoes down the hallway—a creak, like a door opening somewhere nearby. Misha freezes, eyes wide, his grip on the net tightening. “Did you hear that?”

Oliver goes still, his head whipping toward the sound. “Grey, we’ve got something.”

I quickly scan the feeds, my heart pounding. “Hold on… I don’t see anyone. It might just be the building settling. Remain calm.”

Misha lets out a shaky breath and starts scooping the fish in slow motion as if that would keep him from being detected by someone.

“Let’s just finish up and get out of here,” Oliver urges, and Misha begins to scoop faster, his movements more urgent again.

The buckets are almost full, and still, the hallway remains empty. I keep my eyes glued to the feeds, every nerve on edge.

“This has to be enough,” Oliver says finally as they fill the last bag. “The rest will be saved tomorrow.”

Misha lowers the net and wipes a bit of sweat from his brow. “All right, let’s get out of here.”

I lean forward, scanning the Elysium hallways one last time. “Hold on,” I murmur, eyes locked on the screen. “Okay. Coast is clear. No movement outside. You’re good to go.”

They make their way toward the exit, buckets in hand, moving swiftly but carefully, like two perfect bandits in the night. The street outside should be quiet when they reach it, with no one around to witness their late-night operation.

Our operation.

But just as the door to freedom comes into view, another sound—a faint rustle, like footsteps—makes them both freeze. My muscles tense, and my heart races as I scan the feeds.

“Grey…” Oliver’s voice is taut with anxiety, barely above a whisper.

I ignore him as I look, and my breath catches in my throat when I see it. There, at the end of the hallway, patrols the night security guard, flashlight in hand. He’s closer to them than I’d like, his footsteps echoing ominously in the quiet building. “Shit,” I mutter, fingers flying over the keyboard. “It’s the guard. He’s on his rounds, but he’s moving fast. You’ve got about a minute before he’ll be able to see you.”

“A minute?” Misha’s voice cracks with panic.

“Grey, what do we do?” Oliver whispers urgently.

“All right, listen up. I’m going to loop the camera feed for the hallway and disable the motion sensors near the exit. But you’ve got to move now . Head for the back staircase, not the main exit.”

“Got it,” Oliver says, his voice hardening with determination.

I quickly do as I promised, looping the feed to show an empty corridor and shutting off the motion sensors near the exit as they go. I toggle back to the feed showing Misha and Oliver and watch as they backtrack, heading toward the staircase. The guard walks along on another feed, mere feet away from where they just were.

“He’s at the end of the hall,” I warn them, my fingers hovering over the controls. “Whatever you do, don’t make a sound.”

“Too late for that,” Misha mutters under his breath, his anxiety obvious.

Their breathing is labored over the earpiece, rapid and shallow. My own heart pounds in my chest as the guard pauses and shines his flashlight around, the beam slicing through the darkness.

“Hold your breath,” I whisper. “He’s checking the tanks.”

Even through the grainy feed, I see the guard’s brow furrowing as he inspects the tank closely.

“Come on, move on…” I mutter under my breath, fingers tapping nervously against the desk, my foot bouncing.

Finally, he does, shrugging as he continues his patrol circuit. But just as I think we’re in the clear, he passes the staircase where Misha and Oliver are hiding and stops, tilting his head as if listening.

My heart almost stops. “Stay still,” I hiss, gripping the edge of the desk, trying to keep calm. “He’s right outside.” I watch in horror as the guard slowly turns toward the staircase and aims his flashlight at the door. Frantically tapping on the keyboard, I bring up the building’s environmental controls.

“Hang tight,” I say, more to myself than to them. “I’m going to trigger a power surge in the east wing. It should distract him.”

My hands move in a blur as I override the system’s safeguards, routing extra power to the east wing’s lighting. A second later, the lights flicker violently in that part of the building, and an alarm starts to blare.

The guard spins around, his attention diverted, then takes off toward the flickering lights.

“Now! Go, go, go! ” I urge them.

Oliver and Misha don’t hesitate as they burst through the stairwell door and sprint down the steps, the plastic bags in the buckets whipping dangerously as they go. I switch the camera feeds to track their progress, my nerves fraying with every second that passes.

“Down the stairs, through the service corridor, then out the back,” I instruct urgently. “The guard is occupied, but that won’t last long.”

They don’t respond, too focused on their escape to talk. Their breaths are heavy as they race through the building, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the stairwell.

I follow intently as they burst through the door at the bottom of the stairs and make a beeline for the service corridor. The back exit is just ahead, but they’re not out of the woods yet .

“Grey, the door. It’s locked!” Oliver’s voice is strained with panic.

I curse under my breath.

So much for my quick thinking.

“Hold on, I’m unlocking it now.”

I bypass the security protocols for the back door with ease and check once more for the guard, but he’s in a completely different part of the building.

“You’re clear,” I say, relief flooding me. “Get out of there, now !”

The door swings open, and they dash out into the night. My breath comes in ragged gasps as they disappear from view. I rise from my chair, sending it spinning, and pace away some of the tension.

“You’re back in our building?” I ask anxiously after a few moments when I hear what I think is the elevator doors.

“Y-yes,” Oliver pants, and a rush of relief floods through me.

Misha lets out a long breath. “Man, I’m never going to look at fish the same way again.”

“Yeah, that was fun.” Oliver chuckles, though I can still hear a hint of tension. “But how about next time, we do something simpler for our Sunday night bonding activities, like hacking into a government satellite or—”

“Cracking the NSA’s encryption protocols?” Misha cuts him off, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

A loud laugh escapes me, the tension in my shoulders truly easing as I realize they’re in the clear. “Just get to Amelia’s apartment,” I instruct, already planning our next moves. “I’ll finish up here and come help acclimatize them in a minute. She’s going to be thrilled when she finds out what you’ve done for her.”

“Copy. Over and out,” Misha says with mock seriousness, making Oliver chuckle .

“It’s actually just over , but never mind,” Oliver says with an amused sigh.

I re-enable Elysium’s surveillance system, making sure everything clicks back to its normal state with no flickering lights or alarms. The hallway in the corporate building is silent. The only change is that the tank is now missing a few of its occupants. The tetras are on their way to a better life, and we’ve pulled off a successful mission without a hitch.

Or at least without getting caught.

My heart rate finally returns to normal as the last of the adrenaline ebbs away, and I set my earpiece by the computer.

I smile, imagining Amelia’s face when she sees her surprise. That will be more than worth having made ourselves accomplices to the original fish thief.