Page 11 of Their Reckless Thief
As they turned to investigate, I moved. Quick, silent steps took me along the wall, and I used the shadows to stay hidden. I didn’t rely on my appearance this time around like I often did. Instead, I relied on my skills and the quiet confidence of someone who had done this a hundred times before.
As I reached the mansion’s back entrance, I stopped and glanced back at the guards, who were still fiddling with their gear. One of them kicked the base of the security post, and the other made a joke about the system needing to “get its shit together.” I rolled my eyes, the corner of my lip curling in disdain. If they had any idea what was actually going on, they would be shitting themselves.
“Guards are distracted,” I whispered to Vivian. “Heading inside.”
“You’re an artist,” Vivian grumbled in my ear. “But you’re still an idiot. Give me a second… Okay, the next guard is making his rounds. Looks like he’ll pass by you in about thirty seconds.”
Slipping through the garden, I found my way to the back entrance I’d seen in my vision. The lavish estate was almost unnervingly quiet, just as I’d predicted. Soft, glowing lanterns illuminated the sprawling, marble-clad mansion, each casting an ethereal glow over the manicured lawn. A fountain bubbled in the distance, and the scent of night-blooming flowers drifted on the cool breeze.
I ducked under a low-hanging branch, my eyes narrowing as I scanned the estate for any other unexpected surprises.
“I don’t like this,” Vivian muttered, typing aggressively, her voice hushed now. “There are too many guards. Something’s wrong.”
“It’s fine,” I insisted, shaking off the creeping doubt. “I’ve got a good feeling about this. I saw the vault. I saw the way in. I can do this, Viv.”
“Yeah, well, I’m seeing a lot of extra guards that your vision didn’t show. Something could’ve changed.”
I stepped onto the back terrace, my eyes locked on the wide, ornate doors. “I know,” I admitted, my voice softening. “But it’ll be fine. If something changes, I’ll adapt.”
The lock on the door was as simple as I’d expected. No need for complicated tech here. A quick flick of my wrist, and the door clicked open.
“Vivian, keep me posted on the guards’ movements.”
The mansion was even more extravagant inside. Marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of chandeliers, and priceless artwork hung on the walls. I moved quietly, listening to the faint echoes of footsteps somewhere in the distance. Everything was polished, pristine, and yet... there was something unsettling about it. This was the kind of place where power corrupted everything it touched. Or maybe that was simply Vincenzo.
My steps slowed as I ran my fingers along the edge of a marble pillar, the memory of freezing nights in alleyways popping up unbidden. The hunger, the cold, the scraping sound of rats in the dark... It had been years since I clawed my way out, but the fear of falling back into that life still haunted me.
My heart beat faster as I paused at the entrance to a long corridor. The vault was ahead. I could feel it.
I pressed my hand against the door, testing it, and slipped inside with barely a sound. More marble. More sparklingchandeliers. I didn’t have time to admire the décor. I moved swiftly through the hallways, scanning for any more surprises, like unexpected security guards.
As I approached a junction, I caught sight of another guard’s shadow stretching across the floor, blocking my path.
“Viv, where are they heading?” I whispered.
“I’ve got eyes on a couple of guards moving toward the east wing. You’re clear for now, but don’t take too long.”
“Right,” I muttered, heading deeper into the belly of the beast.
As I crept through the house, I couldn’t shake the feeling that somethinghadshifted, just like Vivian had suggested. The vision had felt so clear, but now... now, I wasn’t so sure.
Still, I had come too far to turn back. I’d never been a quitter.
I barely breathed as I crept down the hallway, my steps silent against the marble floors. No one was supposed to be here tonight. No meetings, no security besides the random, incompetent guard sprinkled here or there. In my vision, there was nothing but an empty mansion ripe for the picking. And yet, the closer I got to the vault, the more I sensed something was truly off.
A low murmur of voices drifted down the corridor. I froze, ears straining to catch the conversation coming from behind a half-open door up ahead.
Shit.
My heart thundered. The vault room wasn’t supposed to be occupied, yet it clearly was. What the hell was going on?
I edged closer, staying flush against the wall as I peered through the narrow crack in the door. The room beyond was opulent, as expected—ornate furniture, a huge fireplace, and a massive crystal chandelier hanging overhead. But it wasn’t the décor that caught my attention. It was the three men seatedat the long mahogany table, the flickering firelight illuminating their faces.
Vincenzo Moretti. Luca Thorne. And Dorian Voss.
Fuck. Motherfucking fuck.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop as I registered who I was staring at. Vincenzo Moretti, the vampire mafia lord who ran the blood and drug cartel in The Below… and the owner of the fucking mansion I’d just broken into.
