The air inside the Korean Mint is thick with tension, the hum of machinery and the distant shouts of guards creating a constant background noise. Rio sits in a makeshift tech station, surrounded by monitors displaying security feeds, code running like rivers across the screens. His hands fly over the keyboard, fingers moving with practiced ease, but his mind drifts for a moment to the chaos outside, to the life he left behind.

Across from him, Paris is leaning over a laptop, her brows furrowed in concentration as she deciphers the firewalls protecting the Mint’s systems. Her presence is steadying, a quiet strength that has become Rio's anchor in these chaotic times. They’ve been through long nights of study sessions together, sharing energy drinks and tales of lives they’d rather forget. Months of planning had forged an unspoken bond between them—one built on trust, a shared vision, and an understanding of the masks they wear.

Rio’s heart beats a little faster when Paris glances up, offering him a rare, soft smile. For a moment, the harsh fluorescent lights seem warmer, casting a glow on her face, highlighting the intensity in her eyes. It’s a look that says, “We’ve got this,” and it reassures him more than she might ever know.

Yet, beneath the surface, Rio battles a gnawing fear, a shadow of his past that lingers even here. He can still hear his father's voice, harsh and demanding, pushing him towards a life he could never embrace. The memory is suffocating—his father's hands gripping his shoulders, forcing him to attend med school, disregarding his trembling hands and the panic that seized him whenever he faced a needle, the sight of blood. He shivers, even now.

Paris notices. Her hand brushes his lightly, an unspoken promise passing between them. “Focus,” she whispers, voice low enough to be drowned out by the buzz of the servers, but it cuts through his thoughts. He catches her gaze, and for a heartbeat, the weight of the heist, the danger surrounding them, fades.