Penthouse suite break-in The New World of SwapTech chapter 5 by deleted_user

Damien waited until Arjun’s party hit peak debauchery.

With everyone distracted—drunk, nude, or tangled up in somebody else—he slipped away down the private staircase to the penthouse level. Solstice Shores’ upper suites were absurd: floor-to-ceiling ocean views, private plunge pools.

The suite’s door slid open.

Dark inside. Cool. Smelled faintly like eucalyptus. He padded in barefoot—heels off, quiet—and made straight for the workstation. Arjun had to be syncing EgoShifter specs somewhere. He just needed to pull data, get out, and decrypt it before anyone—

A soft thump came from the bedroom.

Damien froze.

Another thump. Then a whispered, “Shit.”

He crept forward and peered inside.

There, crouched by the bedside smart console, was a stunning dark-skinned woman in tight black catsuit armor, clearly not resort staff. Short-cropped hair. Full lips. A low back tattoo that shimmered faintly like it had circuit logic in the ink.

She turned and froze when she saw him.

They stared at each other.

Then both blurted out at the same time: “Who the fuck are you?”

Damien recovered first. “Cleaning staff.”

“In a microdress?”

“Sexy cleaning staff.”

The woman rolled her eyes and turned back to the console, typing furiously. “You’ve got twenty seconds to tell me if you’re here to fuck Arjun or fuck with Arjun.”

Damien folded his arms. “What makes you think I’m not both?”

She snorted. “Cute. Now move. I’m almost in.”

“You’re a data thief?”

“‘Ethical counter-surveillance specialist.’” She shot him a dry look. “And you’re here because what, you heard the food was good?”

“I’m trying to bring him down.”

“So am I.”

Pause.

“…Wanna tag-team?”

Damien considered. Two rival intruders, one luxury penthouse, an experimental body-melting startup on the brink, and zero backup plans.

“…Fine. But if you double-cross me, I will end you.”

“Noted.”

She flashed a grin and tossed him a portable drive. “Start copying. I’ll disable remote trace.”

They worked in sync—silent, efficient, occasionally elbowing each other. Halfway through, Damien muttered, “What’s your name?”

She smirked. “Sleeve name’s ‘Nyx.’”