Midnight draped Star Harbor in silence. Inside the auction hall, the monitoring room was alive with flickering screens. Dozens of feeds showed every corner of the building, from polished marble halls to the heavily guarded vaults below.
Jemma stepped inside, her boots echoing softly on the tiled floor. Her sharp eyes swept across the room.
"Anything suspicious?" she asked.
"None," one of the security men answered confidently. "Everything looks fine."
Jemma folded her arms, studying the feeds herself. The guards around her seemed relaxed, but her instincts wouldn't quiet down. She leaned closer to the screen bank, eyes narrowing. Something felt wrong.
Her voice cut the silence. "What's the weather outside?"
The operator glanced at the small weather overlay. "It's cloudy. It's likely to rain soon."
Jemma's gaze darted to feed seventeen. She froze. "Then why," she whispered, "is there a reflection of a clear moon in the window glass?"
