Page 55

M Y PULSE THUDS IN MY VEINS LONG AFTER O TTO’S FOOTSTEPS HAVE disappeared down the hall.

I stand in my room with Mia’s armoire doors thrown open, her drawers pulled out and empty, feeling like the world just exploded around me for the second time this afternoon.

If my heist fails, everyone I love is in danger.

If I succeed, I’m joining the Knives Club.

The simplicity of my situation steadies my nerves, somehow. There’s no use worrying or struggling. I understand the two choices with perfect clarity.

I remember when I last felt this way. Our fourth night in our first Coventry house.

Until we moved in, I could pretend the situation was temporary.

Under my rose-patterned comforter in the room my mom lovingly prepared in Coventry, I understood this was my life now. I could crumble, or I could survive.

My breathing returns to normal. I tidy up Mia’s former side of the room, erasing all traces of Otto and his threats.

I need to focus on what I can control now. My heist.

Which means getting those cuff links to trade my father for the ring.

I need to find where Mia has hidden the cuff links.

I leave my room and march down the hall, sending a text to the crew to meet in Abigail’s room. The best place to start looking is hacking Mia’s accounts and searching for any revealing correspondence.

Stopping at my sister’s door, I take a breath.

I don’t know where Abigail and I stand right now.

We haven’t really spoken since I questioned her loyalties.

Still, she was there, with us—with me—in the vault.

I need her right now. I give her door a soft, quick knock, not wanting to draw out nosy neighbors, then stride in before anyone can see me loitering in the hall.

It’s a terrible, grave, horrific mistake.

I walk in on Abigail locked in a passionate kiss with Deonte. His hands are in her hair. Her shirt is rumpled. They had left the courtyard so he could help clean up her scraped hands and now… Of course. Tending to her injuries led to making out!

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say.

They jump apart.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Abigail replies, her voice breathy and furious.

For a moment I feel like I’m hearing the echo of the life we didn’t live. One where my sister and I get into screaming fights for barging into each other’s rooms and stealing trivial things like sweaters and shoes.

“This cannot be happening,” I say while Deonte straightens his clothes. “Why now? It couldn’t, I don’t know, wait two days?”

My sister blushes for maybe the first time in human history. She seems too embarrassed to reply. Lucky for her, lucky for me, lucky for all of us, she doesn’t have to, not with Deonte nearby.

He takes her hand as he faces me. “When I heard the explosion, I realized I wasn’t scared for myself.

I was scared for Abigail,” he says. “I ran to the courtyard, and I told myself that if she was okay—if I got the chance—well, I wouldn’t waste it.

I was going to tell her how I felt. So I did.

” His voice is strong and decisive. Yet his eyes, straying to Abigail, are soft and adoring. Ugh , it’s very sweet.

Except it’s not, because it’s about my sister . My sister who might still betray us.

“There you guys are!” Kevin’s voice comes from behind me.

Just what this situation needed! Kevin Webber.

I turn, finding it’s worse than Kevin. He, Tom, Grace, and Jackson stand in the hallway. The whole crew walks into the room while Abigail and Deonte are still holding hands.

“ Dude ,” Kevin says, his voice reverent. “Did you make your move?”

Deonte’s answer is a nod accompanied by a shy, small smile.

I shut the door so no one sees us all alone together. But as I seal myself inside with my sister’s romantic life, I half-heartedly wish Otto Karlson would walk by and threaten me some more.

When I turn back to my crew, I find Kevin walking across the room to pull Deonte in for a hug.

“I’m so happy for you,” Kevin says, thumping Deonte on the back.

“Wait, you knew this was a thing?” I ask. I’d been picking up on the cues, of course, but how did Kevin know this was coming?

Kevin pulls apart from Deonte, grinning as if he’s the one who just kissed his crush. “Hey,” he says, “feelings come out when you’re watching a Shrek movie every night. Those films are romantic as hell.”

Oh no. It’s worse than I thought if Deonte has been pining during bro time.

“New Chess Club rule,” I say sharply. “No intra-club romances.”

Tom guffaws loudly. Even Jackson snickers.

I get the sense no one is taking this seriously.

My sister’s eyes pin mine. “Olivia, you literally got together with Jackson in the middle of our last heist,” she points out unhelpfully.

I scowl.

“You really did, babe,” my boyfriend adds.

“Not like this!” I reply, but it sounds flimsy even to me. “Did everyone here just forget about the freaking explosion ? Now is not the time.”

Jackson smirks. “It was a little like this. Arguably worse because we were in the middle of running away from security.”

“Is that when it happened?” Deonte asks as if it’s a point they’ve long debated. “McCoy was right.”

I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather give up my heist and take my chances with the Knives mercenaries over one more minute of this.

“Are you just jealous because you’re not the center of attention for one minute?” Tom asks, his expression lethally amused.

I cross my arms. “It has nothing to do with that,” I reply hotly. Admittedly, I do like the spotlight, but I’m not that self-absorbed. If I were, I’d choose to be anything other than a secret criminal heist leader.

I can’t really defend myself, though. The truth is, I’m afraid Abigail is playing Deonte, but I’m not foolish enough to say that. Not after questioning Abigail’s loyalties last time fractured the whole crew.

“Hey,” Deonte says cheerfully, “you got the epic romance last heist. This time it’s someone else’s turn.”

Jackson raises a finger. “I would like to state for the record that our romance is still epic.”

Deonte nods, allowing it.

“I hope it’s my turn next heist,” Kevin says, his gaze going faraway.

Grace laughs. “What’s your dream girl like, Kev?”

This is a disaster. Honestly, it’s amazing we didn’t get caught in the explosion given how far my crew has clearly devolved.

“Well, obviously, I’m a very gregarious guy. I feel like I need a classic grumpy-sunshine pairing,” Kevin replies, holding his chin in deep thought. “Someone who acts annoyed with me but really—”

“Oh my god,” I say, interrupting further discussion on that worrying topic. “We just survived an explosion, and this is what we’re discussing?”

“So you agree?” Abigail says quickly, her tone slick. “Crew romances aren’t up for group discussion?” She raises her eyebrows victoriously.

“Fine,” I groan. “You win. Whatever. You guys are honestly cute together,” I admit very grudgingly.

Abigail beams. “Now that’s settled. While your timing was… inconvenient, I do have something I want to share with the group.”

The shift in Abigail’s demeanor is stark. Her expression turns serious, her posture straightens. Gone is the playful, pissed sister. In her place, my scary hacker. Deonte watches her with keen interest. Whatever Abigail wants to announce, he doesn’t know.

I bristle, preparing myself.

In the event of Abigail’s defection, it’s not just Deonte’s heart I worry for. It’s everyone’s. Mine.

With us all waiting, Abigail reaches into her back pocket. She produces something silver and glittery.

Mia’s charm bracelet. The cuff links.

I stop myself from gasping. “How? When?” I manage.

Abigail is all smugness. She spins the chain around her index finger as if it’s nothing.

“I really was trying to pull Mia from the dungeon,” she explains.

“I didn’t want her to get hurt. But… when I grabbed her wrist, it’s possible I had an ulterior motive.

She didn’t notice when I broke the clasp. ”

Deonte pulls her to his side, laying a kiss on her temple. “You’re incredible, my sweet macaron.”

I’m too focused on the bracelet to care about the ridiculousness of that pet name. The cuff links are ours.

Or—they’re Abigail’s. She has what Dash wants. She could easily cut her side deal with our father.

I wait for her to do just that. Instead, she drops Deonte’s hand. Her gaze locked with mine, she crosses the room to stand in front of me.

Defiant, she shoves the bracelet into my hands.

“Trust me now?” she asks.

I close my hand around the cuff links, stunned. I don’t pull my eyes from my sister’s. Is it really true that I can trust my own blood? Someone who once hurt me? If it is—possibilities open like vaults before me.

I smile. It’s genuine and unguarded.

“So what do we do next?” Grace asks.

I’m still looking at my sister when I reply. “Now we make a deal with our father.”