Page 84 of Princess of Thieves

Will insists on using too much lighter fluid. Rob’s grumbling about getting the coals evenly spread. LJ is standing back, arms crossed, offering sarcastic commentary, while Tuck’s looking around for a meat thermometer and refusing to throw anything on there without one.

And here I am, just... observing. Feeling this strange sense of rightness settle into me, like something finally clicked into place.

And maybe it has. It feels so natural—the four predators, all so powerful in their own ways, all capable of destruction, action, intensity, and me, the one who can tune things back up. Knit the broken pieces back together.

We’re not traditional—God, are we not—but we’re right.

Before I can get too lost in my thoughts, a voice shouts from the entrance, cutting through barbecue discussion. We all turn at once.

“Is that Zayn?” Rob calls back. “We’re down here!”

A moment later, Zayn comes rushing in from the driveway, and he looks...bad. Worse than yesterday, even, the stress written all over his face. And, for the first time since I met him, he’s not wearing that damn khaki sheriff’s uniform. Just civilian clothes—jeans, button-down, sleeveless undershirt.

Will frowns, stepping forward. “What’s wrong?”

Zayn takes a panting breath, signals for a moment to catch it.

“Damn, did you run all the way here from Nottingham?” Rob says, but his joking demeanor melts away when he sees Zayn’s expression.

I scoot to the edge of my seat, then stand. Tuck and LJ hover in the background, waiting.

And Zayn sucks in another inhale.

“They fired me,” he says. “They fuckingfired me.”

Rob straightens, his expression sharpening. “What do you mean?”

“I mean they kicked me off the force, man.” Zayn almost yells it, a note of panic creeping into his voice. “I think they know.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Ten minutes later, we’re all sitting around the table by the pool. Will’s poured drinks for everyone, though Zayn hasn’t touched his. His hands rest stiffly in his lap, eyes staring straight ahead like he’s trying to burn a hole into the horizon.

Rob slugs back some beer and tips the bottle at him. “So they give you a reason, or what?”

“Said it was for insubordination,” Zayn answers, his voice tight with anger. “But that’s bullshit. I’ve never disobeyed an order.”

“You got me my Mustang back,” I point out.

I don’t know if I mean it as a joke or not, but it doesn’t do much to diffuse the tension. Zayn just waves his hand through the air dismissively. “Like the other guys aren’t doing worse with evidence they’ve quote-unquote confiscated.” His voice drips with contempt. “Plus,” he adds, glancing at me. “No one told menotto return it to you, in so many words.”

“He’s got them there,” Will says drily. “But I don’t think that technicality’s going to reverse the decision, my friend.”

“I don’t want the job back,” Zayn says. “I’ll figure something out. It’s more like...” He casts a glance around at us. “Well, this has gotta be bad news for y’all, right?”

For a moment, everyone falls silent.

“Well, it’s notgoodnews,” Rob says after a moment, but the humor in his voice doesn’t reach his eyes. He scrubs his hands through his hair. “I mean, hell, I’m not even sure it is news. We’ve always known Gisbourne and the sheriff were playing dirty, right? Them shitcanning Zayn just confirms it.”

What he doesn’t say hangs in the air. That they’re cutting off our lifelines, one by one. And it’s just a matter of time until they hit the center of the target.

“So... now what?” LJ asks, breaking the silence.

I look at Rob, waiting for his answer. He’s always been the one with the plan, the fearless leader we all turn to at a moment like this. But even he looks uncertain now, eyes dark with thought as he stares down at his beer.

“Security.” Will’s the one to speak up first. “We’ve gotta beef things up. I never got a chance to check on those cameras, but—”

“You and your damn toys,” LJ mutters. “New shit’s not the answer to everything, you know?”

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