The watch on my wrist began its countdown.
Five minutes to find what I was looking for and get out undetected. After that, security would perform its sweep of the grounds.
Simple enough.
Cameras had already been disabled, seeing as that particular hall was under construction. The beam of light from the flashlight I held illuminated the eerie room as I swept it around. There were bookshelves lining the room, all of them tightly packed with hardcovers; a grotesque tapestry hung behind it, depicting a bloody scene of war.
As I scurried around the room, my gaze fell on what I'd come for.
Perfect.
I hurried over, the gloves over my hands brushing the keys of the laptop as I typed in the password. There wasn't much thought put into it. One would think people wouldn't use something as obvious as their birthday, but they'd be wrong. Even the senator was naïve enough to do so.
It was no wonder things were constantly getting leaked.
This was child's play. The itchiness from the blonde wig that my own chestnut hair was tucked into was more concerning than the minor possibility of getting caught. Jamming in a little flash drive, I transferred all the information on the laptop onto it. A small window popped up, displaying a bar that was steadily turning green.
I dropped a white card onto the keyboard. It bore the print of red lipstick. There was no need to worry about DNA getting pulled off of it, not since it was just a copy of the original card. The effect would still be the same. It was my signature. I left it wherever I did any sort of heist.
Three minutes left on the clock.
The files were still transferring.
I glanced behind me at the large window. There were no curtains, no blinds. The room may have been dark, but if somebody caught the slightest sign of movement in the office...
The laptop let out a small beep! alerting me the files had transferred.
I pulled out the drive, tucking it into my boot. Before I could slip out the door, it swung open and a figure dressed in black stepped in.
I had accounted for everything but this. A second thief.
Evidently, I had some new competition.
He looked just as dumbfounded as me. For a single moment, we both stood frozen, staring at each other with wide eyes. He hadn't expected me, nor had I expected him. It was rare for this sort of situation to arise - in fact, I had never actually heard of something like this happening. It was simply unheard of. Maybe it was for a good reason. Maybe one of the thieves always killed the other, leaving nobody to pass on the story.
The one time I don't bring my bow, I need it.
My initial reaction may have been somewhat delayed, but it was still quicker than his. I leaped over the table, flipping in midair, and landing on him with my full weight. There was a crash as a vase made contact with the hardwood floors.
He hit the floor with a thud, hooking both his arms around my legs and yanking hard.
I toppled down onto the ground beside him.
The second thief rolled onto me, clasping both of his gloved hands around my throat and squeezing hard. His dark eyes bored into my own, unblinking. Panic shot through me - a choke hold was nearly impossible to get out of, especially in such a weak position.
Next time, be sure to lock the damn door.
I raked my nails across his face in a useless effort to escape. His skin was shielded by the ski mask he wore. Everything around me was starting to fade, my consciousness about to disappear. My hands scrambled around, grasping a piece of the broken vase and plunging it into his side. He cried out, slackening his grip enough for me to get some air. Adrenaline kicked in, endowing me with enough strength to shove him off.
Oxygen rushed into my lungs. As I caught my breath, I grabbed another shard, using it to slice into his thigh. Blood squirted out, splashing onto me as I jumped to my feet. With a swift blow to his temple, the thief slumped to the floor, dazed.
A single, foolish thought formed in my head. If I'm late to dinner again, I'm dead.
Voices came from down the hall, loud. The beam of a flashlight showed through the crack beneath the door. Sprinting to the window, I flung the heavy desk chair at it. The glass cracked before shattering into countless pieces. Just as the door to the office swung in, I leaped out the window, hurtling toward the ground.
➵
There was soothing classical music playing downstairs in the house. The dinner party was starting and I should already have been ready, greeting the guests. Instead, I was climbing back into my room through my window. I was running late and if I didn't get to my balcony in a couple minutes, I would be in a hell of a lot of trouble.
Cool air blew my hair wildly around my face as I hoisted myself up onto the balcony.
The peaceful sound of the music downstairs was interrupted only by the housemaid banging on my bedroom door, as I rushed to get ready. Pulling off the blonde wig, I grabbed a red dress out my closet, throwing it on as quickly as possible. "Yes?"
"Are you ready, Miss Lia? Your parents are asking for you," Tonia called through the door.
I dabbed my face with makeup before moving on to conceal the bruises that were starting to show on the porcelain skin of my neck from the altercation I'd had earlier. "Nearly," I said to her, starting to run a brush through my hair. "I'll be down in a couple minutes."
Tossing my bag into the back of my closet, I hid the flash drive behind a painting that hung on my wall. It would be put to use later. Swapping my boots for heels, I left my room. The brightly lit corridor to the stairs was long, my heels clicked against the floor as I scurried down the spiral staircase and into the large dining room.
Bits of light were thrown around from the electric fireplace, reflecting onto the wood-paneled walls of the room. The point of an electric fireplace escaped me, all it did was provide light, it didn't warm the room. And why was there need for additional light when two round chandeliers hung over the middle of the table? It may have been aesthetically pleasing, but I still preferred an actual fireplace rather than some ostentatious plugin.
My mother and father both shot me irritable looks. They were big on punctuality, to them my tardiness was cause for concern. Both sat at the left side of a sleek black table, forcibly smiling at a couple I had never seen before.
"Reyna, Tom," my father said, gesturing to me. "This is our daughter, Lia."
I flashed a smile in the couple's direction.
"Charmed," Reyna said. She was a beautiful woman, with dark hair and an ageless face. She could have been thirty or forty, it was impossible to tell.
Her husband nodded. "We were just talking about you, Lia," he told me, speaking with a British accent. He scratched the scruffy start of a beard. "You're pre-law over at the University, yes?"
Whether my parents had new clients or friends, one of their hobbies was bragging about their perfect daughter. They painted an image of me that was becoming wearisome to sell. Going down the same road as my father was one of their favorite things to bring up. I was beginning to consider changing my major just to spite them.
I took a seat beside my father. "Yes, sir."
"Do me a favor and talk some sense into my boy. He's studying art over there." He had said the word like it was some sort of horrible ailment. Immediately, I knew I didn't like him. "I don't know what he expects to get out of such a useless degree."
I forced a laugh. For some reason, if a major didn't mean an immediate surplus of money, then privileged parents in Manhattan immediately assumed it was useless. Happiness didn't seem to matter.
Reyna glanced anxiously at her phone as Tonia came in with trays of food. "He's so late. I hope he's alright."
"Why didn't he come with you?" I asked.
My mother slammed her Gucci pumps on my foot, shooting me a look.
The couple exchanged a look.
"He wasn't ready," Reyna said, suddenly drumming her fingers on the table.
Tom spoke at the same time, his mustache twitching. It looked like a ferret was dying on his upper lip. "He was out with his friends."
Both fell silent, rather red in the face. Reyna plucked up her wineglass, draining it in a few large gulps. Tonia hurried over and refilled her glass. The silence was awkward, and my father shot me a look. If I had known it was that touchy of a subject, I wouldn't have brought it up.
The bell rang and moments later Tonia escorted a young man to the table. He took his seat by his parents, smiling at mine, greeting them graciously. He winced as he sat down, like the movement caused him pain. His dark eyes met mine. "Who's this?" He had the same accent as his father.
"Lia," I answered, noticing the small patch blood that matted his hair on the side. His hair was so dark, it was almost unnoticeable, but I was sure that I caught his mother squinting at it.
"Jace." He smiled.
"Lia is studying law," his mother said pointedly.
Jace looked away from me and at his parents instead. "Good for her," he said icily.
Then it clicked. He hadn't come with his parents because he wasn't ready or because he was out with his friends at some lame frat boy party. It was because they were estranged.
My parents instantly noticed the tension in the room.
"Why don't you go show Jace around?" my father said smoothly. If there were any barriers between him getting a new client, it would often be my responsibility to take care of it. This time was no different.
I nodded. "Of course." I stood, leading Jace out the room. The conversation started back up once we were out of our parents' line of sight. He had a slight limp as he walked, like he was trying hard to avoid pain. Something about him nagged at me.
The limp.
"So," he said. "Aren't you a perfect daughter? A rich little brainiac."
"You're rich too," I snapped back, picking up on his hostility. "Or you were. Before your family dumped you. Now they just bring you out whenever they need a family photo for the Christmas cards."
The blood.
"Intuitive, aren't you?"
"Yes." I stopped walking, stopping halfway to the backyard. "I suppose I am." I resumed walking, my pace faster than before. I threw open the back door, taking off my heels and stepping on the marble floors with bare feet. It felt smooth and cool beneath me.
When Jace caught up, his gaze was downcast. Sitting on one of the benches, I studied him.
His eyes.
He pressed his lips together and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. "It's been a long night. I shouldn't have been so rude. Sorry for being a total ass."
The limp.
The blood.
His eyes.
I stared at him, realization dawning on me. Jace Acardi was just like me. Suddenly, I knew what kind of person he was: selfish and manipulative. With the blood on his temple and the limp, I knew he was the second thief. He may not have recognized me, but I recognized him. "All's forgiven," I said, feigning a smile.