The third day of the convention was proving to be as chaotic as a squirrel convention in a coffee bean warehouse. The air buzzed with a mix of caffeine-fueled energy and barely contained tension, while event planners scurried around like caffeinated honeybees trying to coordinate the day's activities. Ava stood near the refreshment table, stealing a moment of peace with a tiny plate of hors d'oeuvres that looked like they'd been designed by an architect with a Napoleon complex. She was running on adrenaline, sheer stubbornness, and enough espresso to fuel a small Italian village, all while juggling the chaos of the challenges with the ever-present knowledge that Julian was lurking somewhere, probably practicing his evil genius laugh behind a potted plant.
Unfortunately, it wasn't Julian who found her first—it was Ethan, who had the impeccable timing of a telemarketer calling during dinner.
