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“Is anyone going to mention Dash?” Kevin interjects. “Must’ve been kind of nice to see him, right?” he asks me hopefully.

The question centers me. While discussing Dash is usually one of my least favorite occupations—unless we’re discussing stealing his money—in present circumstances, I’m grateful for Kevin’s interruption. “I’d prefer frostbite,” I reply honestly. “He says he won’t interfere, but I don’t trust him.”

I look to my sister.

“Abigail,” I say lightly. “I saw you had a little chat with him in private today.”

I want her to know I’m watching her. Onto her, even. If my observation rattles her, she hides it with impressive ease, rolling her eyes. “Obviously, it was delightful,” she replies, heavy with sarcasm.

I raise an eyebrow, waiting patiently. If she expects commiseration over our shitty dad to distract me, she’s mistaken.

“Well?” I finally prompt. “Share with us what you talked about.”

Now Abigail’s gaze narrows.

“It’s really not worth getting into,” she responds, meeting the edge in my voice with one in hers. “He wanted to make sure the family was embracing me.”

I flatten my expression. “Did he, now?” I reply. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

Abigail puts indignant hands on her hips. “Hold on. Are you accusing me of lying?” she demands. I dare you , her eyes say. Not clarification. Confrontation.

Unfortunately for her, I love family confrontation.

“I haven’t accused you of anything, Cass. Sorry— Abigail . Old habits die hard,” I amend with feigned innocence. The glare I give her emphasizes my meaning without room for doubt.

Abigail glares right back. “I didn’t have to come warn you about Leonie, you know,” she fires back hotly. “I’ve been helping you.”

“You also helped us in the wedding heist before you handcuffed me to a desk,” I retort.

“Olivia, stop.”

Deonte interrupts our squabble. Rook rarely raises his voice, and his firm reprimand is enough to steal some of my hostility.

“Abigail is in our crew,” Deonte declares. “You need to remember she’s on our side. We need allies. Not opponents. And Abigail is helping us.”

I don’t know how to reply. Not when Deonte—with his loyalty, his courage, his resolve—has just said exactly what I feared.

I wish he, and everyone, understood I don’t enjoy my constant fear of deception. Unkindness hasn’t made me wary of the newest member of our crew. Reality has.

We need allies. Is this her move? Does she want to turn one of my own friends against me?

In my silence, Tom speaks up.

“Olivia is just saying the timing is suspicious.” His evaluating gaze passes over Abigail. Dispassionate, not disinterested. He shrugs. “First you show up. Then Dash. You worked together once.”

I’m opening my mouth to explain he’s right—it’s not like I’m judgmental of everyone —when Jackson preempts me.

“Shut up, Tom,” he warns with viciousness I hardly recognize. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen the fury unleashed on Jackson’s features. “For once, just shut up.”

“Hey.” Grace sits up straight on the countertop, staring Jackson down. “Only I get to talk to my brother like that.”

I feel everything sliding out of control. Avalanching, like deadly snow down the Alpine mountainside, ready to eviscerate us. Erasing my ambitions, my hopes—my crew —into nothing.

“It’s fine,” Tom reassures his sister. “He’s just mad he’s always after me. I helped Olivia with her heists first. I’m defending her first. I even hooked up with her before they got back together.”

Jackson’s jaw tightens. “She doesn’t need you to defend her.”

“Someone should,” Tom says.

“Not when she’s in the wrong,” Jackson returns.

I inhale a cold, sharp breath.

Jackson’s judgment stuns me, and I struggle not to feel hurt. I remind myself I’m not Girlfriend Olivia right now. I don’t need my boyfriend to fight my battles. I should value his rationality, his perceptiveness. His impartiality.

But maybe I’m lying when I say I can compartmentalize pieces of myself.

I am Jackson’s girlfriend. His opinion means more to me than anyone’s, and his disagreement feels like losing the one thing everyone else in the room has.

Irrational jealousy rages in me. Grace has Tom’s back, whereas my blood would put a knife in mine.

Deonte is already siding with Abigail. Now I don’t even have Jackson?

I feel the cracks deepening in my crew, in the loyalties I depend on. How long can the promise of one score hold us together before we turn on one another?

I’m afraid I’ve just found out.

“I don’t need you or anyone to agree with me,” I say, mustering authority into my unwavering voice. “I’m the leader here, and it’s my job to keep us all safe. If that means doubting someone, then you should all know I won’t hesitate to do my job. If that makes me unlikable to the rest of you—”

I meet Jackson’s eyes. He doesn’t flinch.

“—fine,” I finish. “I’ve never done any of this to be liked.”

When the hint of a smile shadows Tom’s mouth, I don’t permit myself to feel proud for reasserting myself. Emotions like pride will lie to me if I let them. Nothing is resolved. Every step is on cracking ice.

I swing my gaze to my sister. “Abigail, any more secret meetings arise, and I will find a way to send you home,” I inform her.

“You need me,” she insists, her posture stubborn.

Now I smile, sadness escaping into my expression. “No,” I reply honestly. “I’ve never had the luxury of needing anyone.”

The room hushes. Fair enough. Let them resent me. I look around, evaluating the alliances forming in my crew. Abigail, Jackson, Deonte against Grace, Tom, me. If we’re chess pieces, what if we’re not on the same side? The idea hurts me in ways few things ever have.

Everyone just needs to remember what waits for us in the vault if we stay united. Even if we don’t stay friends.

“I know the vibe is bad right now,” Kevin ventures, “but I think what we really need is a movie night. Projected on the rampart. I found Otto’s secret projector. Shrek the Third ?”

“Not right now, dude,” Deonte says gently.

Kevin wilts.

“Or we can prank call McCoy,” he perseveres, fighting discouragement. “He’s in London, so it’s the middle of the night for him, too. Could be hilarious?”

I know what he’s doing—trying to bring the group back together. Kevin isn’t on one side. He’s on everyone’s side. It’s heartbreakingly noble.

Noble and useless.

“Another night,” I say.

Finally, even Kevin’s eyes dim.

With nothing more to say, I walk to the door. We entered this meeting with information, plans, hopes, and friends. We ended it with nothing except orders and suspicions. Fabulous leadership, Olivia.

It’s good I’ve never needed to be liked, because right now, I don’t even like myself.