Lucas POV
I've robbed a lot of houses.
Enough to know exactly how people react when a gun enters the room.
Some scream.
Some beg.
Some faint.
A few try to fight.
But none of them ever say what she said.
Take everything.
The words had been calm.
Too calm.
Like she had been waiting for us.
I stared at the laptop in front of me. Lines of green code scrolled down the dark screen while Noah's program ran in the background. Normally I'd be following every command.
Tonight I wasn't seeing any of it.
All I saw was her.
Standing in the middle of that mansion.
Barefoot.
Still.
Eyes empty in a way that didn't belong in a house that expensive.
Take everything.
No panic.
No anger.
No fear.
Just… permission.
"Bro."
Noah snapped his fingers in front of my face.
"Earth to Lucas."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You've been staring at that screen for ten minutes and haven't typed a single line."
I glanced at the blinking cursor.
He wasn't wrong.
"You sick or something?" Noah asked.
"I'm thinking."
He leaned back in his chair and smirked.
"Dangerous activity for you."
I ignored him.
The warehouse hummed with electricity around us. Rows of monitors lit the long metal desk—security feeds, financial databases, encrypted channels.
Everything our operation needed.
Our next job promised to be a good one already.
Very good.
Cash. Jewelry. Crypto wallets.
All pulled from people who built their fortunes crushing others.
Classic Robin Hood job.
Normally Noah would be celebrating.
Instead he looked annoyed.
"Why do you look like someone stole your lunch?" he asked.
"I'm thinking about the mansion."
Noah groaned.
"Oh my God."
"What?"
"You're still thinking about that woman when we should planning the next hit?"
I didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
He threw his hands into the air.
"Unbelievable."
"It was weird."
"It was a robbery," he said. "We robbed a rich house. That's literally the job."
"She told us to take everything."
"Yeah," Noah said. "That was the best part. So why the obsession?"
"Noah."
"What?"
"That wasn't normal."
He stared at me like I had just discovered gravity.
"None of our jobs are normal."
"That wasn't fear."
"So?"
"It wasn't shock either."
"So?"
I leaned forward.
"It felt like she wanted us there."
That made him pause.
Just for a moment.
Then he shrugged.
"Maybe she's crazy."
"She didn't look crazy."
"Oh please."
"She looked tired."
Noah rolled his eyes.
"Lucas, we rob corrupt millionaires and billionaires. Do you know how many of them are mentally unstable?"
"That wasn't instability."
"Then what was it?"
I hesitated.
Because I didn't fully know.
But something about her eyes had been wrong.
Not wild.
Not confused.
Just… finished.
Like someone who had been drowning for years and finally stopped fighting.
"I think she wanted something to happen," I said.
Noah stared at me.
Then burst out laughing.
"Congratulations."
"What?"
"You diagnosed a stranger's psychological trauma after a thirty-second interaction."
"I'm serious."
"I know," he said, wiping his eyes. "That's the funny part."
I pushed the laptop aside.
"Did you check the news?"
His grin faded.
"Yeah."
"And?"
"Nothing."
The word hung between us.
Nothing.
That was the second strange thing about that robbery that I cannot shake off my mind.
Normally after one of our jobs the internet exploded.
Headlines.
Panic.
Police statements.
Financial analysts having breakdowns on live television.
The Robin Hood Brothers had been trending for six years straight.
But this time?
Silence.
Noah turned a monitor toward me.
Social media feeds.
News sites.
Trending pages.
Nothing about the mansion.
Nothing about the robbery.
"Maybe it hasn't been discovered yet," Noah said.
I shook my head.
"Security alarms would've triggered."
"Maybe they disabled them."
"We checked."
"Maybe the staff haven't arrived."
"That place had full-time security."
Noah leaned back slowly.
Now he looked interested.
"Okay… that is weird."
We stared at the screen again.
Still nothing.
Another thought crossed my mind.
"What was the owner's name again?"
Noah typed quickly.
Property records filled another monitor.
"Ivy Carter."
The name felt familiar.
Not because I knew her.
But because it sounded like a name that should exist in headlines.
"What does she do?" I asked.
Noah opened another file.
His eyebrows lifted.
"Huh."
"What?"
"Former investment analyst."
"Former?"
"She quit five years ago."
"Why?"
More typing.
More records.
The joking expression slowly faded from Noah's face.
"Well that's interesting."
"What?"
"Her husband died."
"How?"
"Car accident."
"When?"
"Four years ago."
I leaned forward.
"Anything else?"
He kept scrolling.
"After that she disappeared from public life."
"Lawsuits?"
"Checking."
Another database opened.
Then Noah stopped.
"Oh."
That wasn't a good oh.
"What?"
He turned the monitor toward me.
A news article.
Four years old.
Financial scandal.
Corporate collapse.
Millions lost.
The firm involved?
The same company Ivy Carter had worked for.
"She was involved?" I asked.
"Looks like it."
"Responsible?"
"Hard to tell."
The article was vague.
But one line stood out.
Key internal witnesses later withdrew statements.
Withdrawn.
That meant pressure.
Threats.
Or something worse.
Noah leaned back slowly.
"Well… now I'm curious."
Silence settled between us.
Then he frowned at the screen again.
"I think these are all fake news."
He typed rapidly, searching deeper.
Then exhaled.
"Noah?"
"You know what?" He closed the laptop. "Let's forget about this."
Too fast.
Too deliberate.
The woman's voice echoed again in my mind.
Take everything.
"Maybe the robbery wasn't reported," Noah said suddenly.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Maybe she didn't call the police."
I looked at him.
That hadn't occurred to me.
"Why wouldn't she?" I asked.
He shrugged.
"Maybe she didn't care."
He studied my face and sighed.
"Oh no."
"What?"
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"That thing where you get emotionally invested in strangers."
"I'm not emotionally invested."
"You're analyzing her like she's a puzzle."
"She is a puzzle."
He pointed at the monitors.
"Lucas, our job is stealing from corrupt elites. Not investigating sad rich people."
"She didn't act like a rich person."
He groaned.
"Please don't start this."
"Something's wrong."
"A robbery with no police report?"
"Yes."
"No media coverage?"
"Yes."
"And a woman who invited thieves into her house?"
Exactly.
Noah tapped the desk slowly.
"You know what bothers me more?" he said.
"What?"
"We didn't find it."
My attention snapped back.
He was right.
The money had been a bonus.
The real reason we targeted that mansion was something else.
Something we'd been chasing for months.
But it hadn't been there.
"Maybe it wasn't," Noah said.
"Maybe."
But my instincts said otherwise.
If the blueprint existed…
It had to be somewhere.
And somehow everything kept pointing back to that mansion.
To that woman.
To that strange calm voice.
Noah stood and stretched.
"Alright. Enough detective work."
He grabbed his jacket.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"Food."
He looked back.
"You coming?"
I didn't answer.
Because I had already made a decision.
A quiet one.
But very clear.
"I'm going back," I said.
Noah froze.
"Back where?"
"The mansion."
His eyes widened.
"You're joking."
"I want another look."
"You robbed the place already."
"I know."
"You can't revisit crime scenes like tourist attractions."
"I'm not robbing it again."
"Then what are you doing?"
I stood.
"I want to see her again."
Noah stared at me like I had completely lost my mind.
"That is the worst idea you've had this year."
"Probably."
"And you're still going?"
"Yes."
He rubbed his face.
"Lucas… if the police are there—"
"They're not."
"You don't know that."
"I do."
"How?"
Because the silence around that robbery felt intentional.
Like someone had decided it shouldn't exist.
And I needed to know why.
I grabbed my jacket.
Noah sighed.
"If this turns into another one of your moral crusades—"
"It won't."
"You said that last time."
I walked to the door.
Cold night air rushed into the warehouse.
For a moment I hesitated.
Thinking about her eyes.
Then I stepped outside.
"Yeah," I said quietly.
"I need to see that mansion again."