Page 95 of Caged By the Ruthless Thief

I pilot through my anger, pointing mysoloat the monstrosity that is the Braesen dome. It’s brass with flying animals molded around it. There are five domes in charge of the security council: Tinom, Vitrom, Braesen, Koralli, and Stele. None of them are overly aligned with Zaffiro, and most are against Glyden. The throughways of the city are mercifully empty, so I quickly reach the Vitrom dome, which is more square than dome. It has a land look about it. Tinom has gone for large and practical, not aesthetically beautiful like most of the other domes.

I’m fuming by the time the gray dome approaches. I’m not heading across the Atlantic, leaving my pod for a hit. One that’s not even spelled out. I’m not getting the rest of the details when I get there. Leaving my pod for this? No. Even though I’m good at what I do—is it wrong to be proud of something so despicable?

At least, I used to be good at what I do. Last time I was sloppy, wanting to race back to Sunshine. I was nearly both seen and taken out myself.

When I started, I figured I wouldn’t last long. Someone would figure out what was coming, or a family member would figure out who had done the deed. But neither of those things has happened. Now I have it down to a science. Like anything, my services come in waves, and I’ve gotten superb at not asking questions. In my head, I suppose, all my hits deserved what was coming to them.

I debate flooding mysoloand swimming into the building. But when you confront a governor in his home, it’s a good thing to be dressed.

I pull thesolointo the airlock and then carefully dock it so the graffiti on the side is covered by the edge of a dock. I tether it up myself, not waiting for a dock attendant. I ignore the stares of those getting into theiromadasandsolos. Respectable citizens, wondering what a Zaffiro like me is doing here. Which I’m wondering about too. What’s my plan?

The reflective glass inside the atrium gives the effect of rainbows bouncing around the narrow space leading to a set of elevators. I’ve been here before, but not since I robbed the then governor and was led into this fucking nightmare.

I push the button, ignoring the glares from the attendant offset from the elevator. Acting like you belong can get you into ninety-five percent of the places you don’t. I jab the button for the floor beneath the penthouse. Tristan Bellucci may be the governor, but his parents still reside in the best apartment. It encompasses the entire floor, and when the elevator door opens, I’m already inside his suite.

The corner of my mouth cocks. You would think that after his parents lost five million to a common thief like me, they’d have added another layer of security. But no, they moved upstairs, giving this place to their eldest son, now the governor, so now I’m standing in the middle of their living room. A completely empty living room. Glass columns support a canopy over a circular seating area in the middle of the room. It’s giving off pod bed vibes. The rest of the room is glass, mixed with tropical plants, and a great vine wrap grows up the walls.

A uniformed butler walks around the corner. “Lunch is going... Who are you?” He’s carrying a large watering can.

“I’m here for the governor.”

“He doesn’t take appointments at home.”

“I know. But he’s here.” It’s a risk, but it’s Larsday and most government officials don’t work on it.

“He is.”

I sit on the edge of the circular seating area and, without taking my shoes off, prop them up on the armrest. “I’m here too. Isn’t that fortunate, since I’m here to see him?”

The male’s eyes widen, and he twists his neck in a way that says, “Does anyone else see what this guy is doing?”

I smirk, raising my eyebrows. “The sooner I see him, the sooner I’m gone.”

He nods like I’ve just come up with a brilliant plan. He puts the watering can down and then picks it up again, as if I might make off with it. I’m betting the safe is still down the hall on the left and the combination is the exact same one. You see, I was the worst kind of thief. I didn’t steal because I needed it, because I had a need for the money. I didn’t have a little sister at home, dying from hunger. Or an addiction. I didn’t want a bettersolo. My parents gave me all I could ever need. I stole from these people because I’m smarter than they are, and discovering vulnerabilities brought me a rush. It still brings me a rush.

I’d like to think the old me is gone. But I’m wiser than that; he’s still in there. The one who needs a rush. Only now I have my own vulnerabilities. Sunshine. I can’t keep working for the security council. But in standing up to them, I’m also putting her in danger. A danger I’m here to squash.

The distinctive clicking of hard-soled shoes comes down the hallway.

It’s Tristan Bellucci, governor of Vitrom, but he’s also with Leonidas, the governor of Tinom’s brother. The two glare at me.

“Eros Herod,” Tristan says.

I stand, but I don’t correct him. I want nothing to do with anything Tinom or Vitrom.

“Thanks for dropping off my mate’s new necklace,” Tristan says.

“Oh, yes. I know she’s going to love it. Would you like to see it?” I raise my eyebrows and smile.

“No, it’s a complete surprise,” Tristan counters, calling the elevator, then turns to Leonidas. “Well, it was good to see you. Wish your brother well for me when you see him.”

“Good day.” The governor’s brother nods to us both as the door shuts.

“What the hell are you doing here, Eros... Portsmouth?” He draws out thes.

“I’m done.”

“Like hell you are.” He reaches for my arm—he thinks he’s going to pull me along like a podlet. But when he tries, I flex and there’s nothing for him to grab.

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