In the early morning, Vicious was already standing by the door, adjusting the collar of his dark jacket.
Thalia called out, her voice hesitant but hopeful. "Can't you at least stay for breakfast today?"
He didn't even turn his head. "No. I've got a meeting to rush to. Don't waste my time."
The door slammed behind him.
Thalia stood frozen in the hallway, staring at the closed door. That's strange… he never leaves without breakfast. Never. Her chest tightened, but she quickly shook her head. Whatever it was, she told herself it wasn't her business. Better not to push.
By nightfall, the house was alive again, though not with warmth. Vicious returned with his three closest allies—Mario, Martinez, and Fernandez. They gathered in the sitting room, their voices low and urgent.
With a snap of his wrist, Vicious unfolded a large map across the table. His sharp eyes flickered over each man. "Tonight, we hit the jewellery store."
He tapped the map with a gloved finger. "This is the main entrance. Cameras here, here, and here. If you walk in blind, you'll be caught in two minutes. This—" he drew his finger across another line "this is the emergency exit. If things go wrong, that's our way out."
Martinez leaned closer, studying the drawing. "What about this corner? Looks like there's a blind spot."
"Exactly," Vicious replied. "That's where we slip in. Quick and clean."
Mario chuckled under his breath. "And if the alarm screams?"
"We cut it before it screams," Vicious snapped. "No mistakes. No hesitation."
Fernandez rubbed his chin. "The guards rotate every thirty minutes. If we move between shifts, we've got at least fifteen minutes before anyone notices something's wrong."
"Fifteen minutes is all I need," Vicious said coldly.
Thalia entered quietly, holding her hands together nervously. "Would you… like some coffee? Or tea?"
"No," Vicious replied without looking at her.
But Mario's expression softened. "Actually, I'd like your tea. You make it better than anyone."
Her lips tugged into the smallest smile. She hurried away to prepare it. When she returned, she carried the tray carefully, her steps light. But as she approached the table, fate intervened. Vicious suddenly turned, colliding with her shoulder.
The cup tilted. Hot tea splashed across the corner of the map.
The room froze.
Vicious's jaw clenched. "What have you done?" His voice was a growl. "Do you know how critical this is? Do you want to ruin everything?"
Thalia's heart raced. "I didn't mean to—"
"Enough!" His hand clamped around her wrist like iron. "You'll pay for this."
He dragged her down the hallway, ignoring her protests. With one forceful shove, he threw her into the dark storeroom.
Her voice trembled through the door. "You can't blame me for your mistake! You're wrong!"
But the lock clicked, and silence swallowed her words.
Back in the sitting room, Mario frowned. "That was unnecessary, Vicious. She just made a mistake. You ran into her."
"Spare me your pity," Vicious muttered. "She'll survive. Now finish your tea—we move."
Their black car rolled to a stop outside the jewellery store. The building loomed in the darkness, its walls humming with silent alarms. Inside, red laser beams stretched across the showroom like glowing spiderwebs.
Mario stepped forward. "Looks like a trap. One wrong move and the alarms will scream."
Vicious grabbed his arm and yanked him back. "Don't be reckless. Think."
Martinez's lips curved into a grin. "Let me try." He crouched low, studying the lasers. Then, with a quick motion, he twisted his body and slid through the beams. Nothing happened. No alarm.
"See?" Martinez said, smirking. "That's how it's done."
Vicious's eyes glinted. "Good. Now move."
One by one, they slipped inside, avoiding the lasers with sharp precision.
"Spread out," Vicious ordered in a whisper. "Take everything you can carry. Gems first, then gold."
Minutes ticked by. One by one, they regrouped, their pockets heavy.
"I found a diamond," Vicious said, holding it up to the dim light.
"I've got a red gem," Martinez said proudly.
"A green one," Mario added.
"And a blue one," Fernandez finished.
Vicious shook his head, unsatisfied. "Not enough. We go again. Quickly."
The men darted back into the showroom, filling their bags with gold, emeralds, sapphires, and rubies. Their breaths were quick now, sweat glistening on their brows. When they returned, their hands were overflowing.
"That's better," Vicious muttered, a rare spark of satisfaction in his voice.
But the moment was short-lived. Shouts erupted outside. Security guards stormed the building.
"Move!" Vicious barked.
They sprinted for the exit, bags clutched tight. A gunshot cracked the night air, bullets sparking off the pavement.
Mario dove into the car. Fernandez shoved the loot in. Martinez fired back blindly.
One guard raised his weapon, aiming directly at them. Vicious turned, his gun already drawn. A single shot rang out. The guard cried out, collapsing as the bullet tore into his leg.
"Go!" Vicious ordered.
The car roared into the night, speeding through the dark streets. Sirens wailed in the distance, but they disappeared into the shadows.
At the hideout, they spilled the jewels and gold across the table. The gems sparkled under the light, dazzling and dangerous.
"This," Martinez whispered, "is a fortune."
Plans filled the air—how to sell, how to split, how to expand. But Vicious said nothing more.
Later, he returned home, exhaustion dragging him down. Without a second thought, he collapsed into bed.
Morning came, and his voice echoed through the halls. "Thalia!"
No answer.
He searched the kitchen—empty. Her room—empty. The dining hall—silent.
Then he froze. A memory flashed in his mind.
The storeroom.
His chest tightened as he rushed down the hall. Pulling the key from his pocket, he fumbled with the lock. The door creaked open slowly.
Vicious stepped inside.
And what he saw made him gasp.