Page 22 of Knot a Thief

Yes, she can fight.

And she can evade capture because of the training she’s had. I know she’s more than capable of looking after herself. I have no doubts about that. But it’s not only the world we work in that we fear. It’s the alphas that dominate this world.

More of Palma unfolds before us, the café now in sight.

I ease the moped to a stop at the end of the cobbled street, my eyes scanning the area for any signs of trouble. Nothing stirs aside from the lazy drift of cigarette smoke from a patron outside.

"You go to Café Puerta al Mar," I murmur as I cock my leg over the seat. "Listen to the conversation, and I’ll meet you there when I’m finished." I want to reiterate over and over that I don’t want her to follow me.

Her arms tighten around me for a moment, a silent gesture, and I know she’s still trying to convince me I’m her man. "Seb," she starts, a warning in her tone that I understand all too well.

"Trust me, I’ll be careful," I interject, my heart hammering against my ribs. "It won't take long. But if you have to leave. You know the drill."

Ava nods, her lips forming a tight line. I know she hates being on the sidelines, but this is not the time for debate. I need her safe, away from prying eyes—away from alphas who will see her as a possession. No doubt this man is an alpha. They always are. And Ava will be the jewel he’ll want to own next.

With one last glance at her, I step away from the moped, feeling the weight of her gaze on my back as I venture toward the café alone.

The bell above the café door chimes, a quaint sound that belies the beating of my heart as I step inside.

The interior is bright, and the scent of rich espresso and baked cookies wraps around me like a welcome embrace.

My eyes adjust to the bright lights above, instinctively cataloging exits and potential threats as they sweep over the scattered patrons. There, in the far corner, sits a man I came to meet.

He exudes an air of quiet authority.

As I walk toward him, his sharp silver-gray eyes lock onto mine, their calculating gaze unnerving me. A tousled mop of the darkest brown hair which complements his sun-kissed face. Apart from the scruff of a beard on his jaw, he appears impeccably groomed.

He is no doubt an alpha.

Each step feels heavier than the last. The weight of this mission is bearing down on me. I suppose it’s because we never normally meet our clients, but this is an exception. We'd negotiated quite the sum for stealing the infamous necklace, but there is a part of me that thinks there is more to this than meets the eye.

As I approach the table, a faint smile plays at the corners of the man's lips.

"Lindon," he greets me using my surname, his voice low and gravelly, but surprisingly friendly. "Good to meet you. My name is Silas."

"Likewise," I reply, not giving him my first name yet as I take the seat across from him. "You got something for me?"

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small envelope, placing it on the table between us. Its contents shimmer with the promise of answers, hopefully a blueprint of the island and building he wants us to infiltrate.

"Where’s your partner?" he asks.

I lean back in my chair, maintaining a level of casual nonchalance despite the weight of his question.

"My partner is not needed today," I reply as my eyes meet with his.

I never mention my partner is female, nor an omega. Nobody has a clue she’s the brains behind the operation and she employed me in the beginning for my hacking skills.

She prefers it this way.

Letting everyone think I’m in charge.

The man's gaze narrows slightly, assessing my response. "Very well," he says, and slides another envelope across the table towards me. "Inside these envelopes, you'll find everything you need to know. The building is heavily guarded, not so much the island itself, so be prepared for resistance. My boss has agreed to your ten percent contract. And you'll receive twenty-five percent of the contract up front, twenty-five percent on the day of the operation and the final fifty percent on handing over the piece."

I reach out for the envelope. His palm slaps on top of my hand, stopping it from moving any further.

"But if you deceive me, I will kill you," he says.

"We're not interested in the item, only the ten percent commission."

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