Page 89 of Their Reckless Thief
27
CELESTE
I woke up with a start,my pulse racing as if I’d been sprinting through my own dreams. The room was dark and still, the heavy curtains blocking any hint of moonlight from outside. I lay there, the sheets tangled around my legs, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep wasn’t coming back anytime soon.
Groaning, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and got up. It had been a long day of meetings with Vincenzo, Luca, Dorian, and Vivian as we came up with a plan to steal the key. My body ached with tension, my mind still spinning with details and contingencies. I couldn’t shut it off—not without the Phantomine. The drug silenced my racing thoughts and calmed the anxiety that buzzed under my skin like an electric current.
I’d packed all the vials Dorian had brought me, but I was trying my best not to use them. Typically, I needed a hit to sleep when I woke up like this. Maybe a walk through the mansion would quiet my thoughts and release the pent-up energy.
It was eerily quiet when I stepped out into the hallway, barefoot and dressed only in the oversized T-shirt I’d worn to bed. The place was a maze of dark wood and shadowy corridors, each turn leading to another expanse of dimly lit rooms that felt more like a gothic dream than reality. For a moment,I considered heading back to bed, but I knew it would be pointless. I needed to move, to clear my head.
So, I kept walking.
As I made my way down a side hallway, the soft glow of Vincenzo’s study light caught my attention. It was much later than any of us should still be awake. I slowed as I approached the door, half-expecting to see Vincenzo hunched over the desk, brooding over yet another plan or grumbling into the phone. When I stepped inside, though, the room was empty. Just me, shadows stretching over the polished surfaces, and the silent hum of the computer.
I didn’t intend to sit down in front of the computer, but it was too enticing to pass up the opportunity. A simple click brought the display back up, illuminating rows of icons. My fingers hovered over the mouse, feeling the pull of curiosity that couldn’t be ignored.
I clicked the browser and searched Roberto’s name. A familiar flood of emotions washed over me, mingling resentment with something sharper… something close to pity. There was little information online about his death, only mentions offoul playand adebt repaid. I gritted my teeth, suddenly furious with how little justice the outside world offered for those he left behind.
Thinking of Will and the other women—Roberto’sdolls—I clenched my fists. Most of them had been hanging on by the thinnest of threads when he was alive. Now, they were surely entirely adrift, with no income, no stability, and little hope of safety. I knew what that world could do to people, knew what kind of desperation it could create. They didn’t deserve to suffer for Roberto’s sins, for his cruelty and greed, nor for Vincenzo’s need for vengeance. The frustration felt like a rising tide inside me, and my gaze landed on a browser tab already open at the top of the screen.
Vaultis.
I paused, glancing up at the door, but the hallway outside was silent. I clicked on the tab, revealing the login screen. My breath caught as the fields filled in on their own. Luca’s name populated on the screen.
It was Vincenzo’s computer, but Luca must have been the last one to log in. A shared account, from the looks of it, between him, Dorian, and Vincenzo. The number that appeared on the screen was one that I couldn’t quite comprehend.
Holy shit, it was more money than I’d ever seen.
I sat back, staring at the amount. How much of a difference could it make to the others, those women Roberto had used and abused, if they had only a minuscule fraction of this? The idea burned in my mind. I took a steadying breath, my heart hammering, and before I could second-guess myself, I leaned forward, carefully typing in a figure. Two million dollars. Barely a dent in what I was staring at.
My fingers hovered over the button to transfer. One click, and it was done. The money transferred into an account I’d set up long ago, a backup just in case. Now it would mean survival for others.
Quickly, I reached for my phone and texted Vivian.
Celeste:Hey. Need you to loop the camera in Vincenzo’s office. Don’t ask why… just do it.
The seconds stretched as I waited for her response. My pulse thrummed in every part of my body, my heart hammering like a trapped animal. Then, a short reply blinked on my screen.
Vivian:Done. Sleepwalking tonight?
I exhaled slowly, adrenaline buzzing through my veins. The room felt charged, like I was just waiting to get caught. I pushed back from the desk and, almost on autopilot, headed toward the door.
The mansion’s dark hallways stretched endlessly before me. I drifted down another corridor, my footsteps soft against the marble floors. The cool air prickled against my skin, keeping my senses alert as I continued through the winding halls.
A few rooms down, an amber glow spilled out into the hallway. I peeked in, taking in the elegance—high-backed armchairs and a grand piano standing proudly by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Bit by bit, I was starting to learn some of the secrets of this place.
After a few minutes, I found myself in the basement, the faint glow of a single, harsh lamp illuminating the space. I stopped in the doorway, surprised to find Luca cleaning up a bloody mess. His back was rigid, his gaze locked on the flickering flames in the woodstove. His usually composed expression was etched with something raw.
I took in the blood-streaked mess, raising an eyebrow in quiet skepticism. “I’ll never understand the mafia’s ways. So much violence, so much… mess.”
Luca’s gaze hardened, but his voice was calm when he spoke. “It’s not all crime and violence. The mafia is about loyalty, family. Those who prove themselves to Vincenzo’s organization are taken care of for life. As far as we’re concerned, they’re family. But traitors? They’re handled in ways that make it clear disloyalty has a price.”
I caught the disdain in his voice as he went on, “Anyone who operates outside the organization, who breaks the code… that’s the worst kind of betrayal. It’s unforgivable.” His tone darkened. “There are punishments that leave an impression. Think of it as a supernatural version ofcement shoes. They’re taken somewhere they’ll never be found… If they survive at all.”
Each word carried a truth I hadn’t fully realized before.
I hesitated for a second, then stepped closer. “So do you torture these poor souls in lieu of sleep most nights?”
