The tall burglar descended the stairs quietly, his steps measured, almost soundless against the polished wood. The house felt different at this hour—too still, too compliant. When he reached the lower level, he followed the low murmur of voices toward the living area.
He stopped short.
The huge burglar was leaning against the kitchen counter, one massive hand wrapped around a bottle of expensive whisky. The label was torn halfway off, the cork discarded somewhere on the floor. He took a long swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and let out a satisfied breath.
"Man," the huge one rumbled, "these people are fancy as hell. Took me forever to find anything decent. It's all wine, wine, wine." He lifted the bottle slightly. "At least they've got taste."
The tall burglar's jaw tightened. "Take it down a notch," he said sharply. "We're on a job."
The huge burglar laughed, deep and booming. "Relax."
"You know leader won't be happy seeing you like this," the tall one added, his voice low but firm.
That wiped the grin off the huge burglar's face—briefly. Then he scoffed. "He's not my babysitter."
The tall burglar stepped closer. "You mess this up, you don't just answer to him. You answer to all of us."
The huge burglar took another drink instead of responding. Then his eyes gleamed beneath the mask. "So," he said casually, "how's the little princess upstairs?"
The tall burglar didn't react.
The huge one smirked. "What? She lonely up there? Locked in a room with two kids, no company?" He chuckled, voice thick with drink. "I could keep her sheets warm if that's what she wants."
He said it playfully.
But there was something underneath it. Something unmistakably serious.
The tall burglar snapped his head toward him. "Cut it out," he said coldly. "Focus."
The huge one shrugged exaggeratedly. "Buzz kill," he muttered. "You're never any fun."
The tall burglar ignored him, grabbing a glass and filling it with water from the sink. He picked up a second glass, hesitated, then filled that too.
"Well," he said flatly, "party for two."
He turned and headed back upstairs, leaving the huge burglar laughing softly behind him, whisky bottle raised in mock salute.
Upstairs, Jen watched the thin line of shadow beneath the door grow darker as footsteps approached. Her muscles tensed automatically. She adjusted herself on the chair , controlling her breathing, and pretending to be asleep
When the door unlocked and opened, the tall burglar stepped inside—and froze.
The twins were curled up on the bed, blankets pulled up to their chins, breathing slow and even. Jen seated on a chair in the corner of the room from them as she pretends to be asleep
The tall burglar frowned. "What's wrong with them?"
Jen stirred just enough to open her eyes, blinking as if waking from a deep sleep. "They're probably tired," she murmured. "It's been... a long night."
He studied her for a moment, suspicious but unwilling to dig deeper. He set the glasses of water down on the side stool.
"No more side quests," he said firmly. "Do not disturb me again."
He turned and left, locking the door behind him.
The second the lock clicked, Jen's eyes snapped open.
She didn't move. Not yet.
Downstairs, Amy's voice trembled as she spoke, hands clenched tightly together.
"Wiring that kind of money isn't simple," she said. "Five hundred million dollars from a joint account requires more than just our codes. It needs confirmation from the regional head before it can be finalized and released."
The leader regarded her coolly. "I don't care how you get it done," he said. "Get to work."
David swallowed. "We'd need to get someone on the phone."
"Then get someone on the phone," the leader replied. "Whoever you need."
Amy hesitated. "You destroyed all our phones."
The room went still.
The leader's head tilted slowly. "Do you think I'm stupid?" he asked softly. "Or do I look stupid to you?"
Amy flinched. "No—I just—"
"Because it sounds like you're implying I sabotaged my own plan," he said, his voice rising. "Which would make me very, very stupid."
"I didn't mean—" Amy took a breath, forcing herself to continue. "There's another phone. Upstairs. In the bedroom."
The leader stared at her for a long moment, then nodded to the calm burglar. "Take her."
The calm burglar stood, grabbed Amy's wrists just enough to guide her, and escorted her upstairs. Minutes later, they returned with a sleek phone in Amy's shaking hands.
By then, a laptop had been placed on the dining table, screen glowing, transaction page already open.
The leader slid it toward Amy. "Your code."
Her fingers trembled as she typed.
When she was done, he rotated the laptop and pushed it toward David. "Yours."
David hesitated only a second before entering his code.
The leader watched closely. Then he leaned back, satisfied.
"Now," he said, nodding toward Amy, "start dialing."