Page 103 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)

CELESTE

The early morning light filtered through the towering windows of our Manhattan apartment, bathing the space in a golden glow.

The hum of the city below was faint, a distant reminder of the vibrant chaos that awaited outside.

Nestled in the heart of the city, this place had quickly become a second home to all of us.

It was sleek, modern, and full of life, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the skyline that stretched endlessly.

I sank back against the pillows on the king-sized bed, savoring the serenity.

My life was now a mosaic of moments like this, filled with freedom, purpose, and connection.

The weight I’d once carried—fear, survival, and the clawing need for Phantomine—had lifted, and now I only carried a quiet strength that felt as natural as breathing.

Vivian and I had shared a bittersweet goodbye a month ago.

She’d decided to return to the human realm, setting up shop in Newark with Will.

Thanks to Vincenzo’s generosity, they now lived in a bright, spacious two-bedroom apartment.

Vivian had proudly shown me her new setup the last time I’d visited—state-of-the-art servers, encrypted systems, and gadgets that even I hadn’t dreamed of.

Will was thriving, too. He’d taken on a mentorship role at a local community center, teaching coding and tech skills to kids who reminded him of himself—scrappy, smart, and in need of a break.

He gave extra attention to strays like himself, who couldn’t quite find their footing in either world.

Together, they’d created a new chapter for themselves, one free of Roberto’s shadow.

Seeing them happy made my chest ache in the best way.

Here in Manhattan, my life had found its own rhythm.

We still stayed at the mansion in The Below whenever we were there, but this apartment was different.

It was ours, a sanctuary away from the politics and dangers of the supernatural underworld.

It had been Vincenzo’s idea, a gift that Dorian and Luca had quickly embraced.

“A place for us to breathe,” Vincenzo had said, his voice gruff but sincere.

The apartment was a blend of modern luxury and personal touches.

A sleek open kitchen flowed into the living room, where Luca’s books lined a custom-built shelf, and Dorian’s guitar rested against the wall near the plush leather couch.

A painting I’d found in a tiny gallery downtown hung above the fireplace.

The vivid depiction of a phoenix rising from the ashes seemed fitting with how my life had turned.

The bedroom I currently lounged in was ours, too, and I rarely woke up alone.

Our lives were intertwined in ways that defied convention, and I’d stopped questioning the dynamics long ago.

They treated me like a queen, building me up into someone I barely recognized—someone strong, fearless, and undeniably worthy of love.

It wasn’t just love that drove me. I had purpose.

The rehabilitation program Vincenzo had entrusted me with was thriving.

We’d started in The Below, reaching out to women who had been victims of The Shadow’s schemes, but the mission had grown.

With Vincenzo’s resources and my vision, we were expanding our reach, establishing safe houses in the human world for women who had escaped the grip of addiction and exploitation.

It wasn’t enough, though. Not yet.

On the days when I visited Newark, I’d walk past the orphanages and group homes, and something inside me stirred.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the kids who had no one to look out for them, who fell through the cracks just as I might have if not for Vivian.

The idea had started as a whisper, a flicker of an impossible dream. But now, it was taking shape.

One day, I would open a center. A sanctuary for children who needed a fresh start, a place to belong. Dorian teased me about it, calling me “Saint Celeste” but I could see the pride in his eyes whenever I spoke about it.

The soft sound of footsteps pulled me from my thoughts, and I turned to see Dorian entering the room. He was shirtless, his hair tousled from sleep, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

“Morning, love,” he said, dropping onto the bed beside me. “You look deep in thought. Should I be worried?”

I laughed, swatting at him playfully. “Just thinking about the future.”

“Ah, the future,” he said, leaning back against the headboard and pulling me closer. “Let me guess—saving the world one lost soul at a time?”

“Something like that,” I replied, resting my head on his shoulder.

Luca stirred on the other side of the bed, his hand reaching out to rest on mine. “You’re always scheming, Celeste,” he murmured, his voice laced with affection. “But it suits you.”

Before I could respond, the bedroom door swung open, and Vincenzo strode in, his presence commanding as always. Despite the early hour, he was impeccably dressed, his dark eyes sharp as they scanned the room.

“Good morning, dolcezza ,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a familiar shiver down my spine.

“Morning,” I replied, smiling as he perched on the edge of the bed.

He leaned down, brushing a kiss against my temple. “We have a meeting with the Veil Guard this afternoon. They’ve been dragging their feet, but I think we’ll finally get the information we need.”

I nodded, knowing he would handle it with the precision and ruthlessness that defined him.

I leaned back against Dorian and squeezed Luca’s hand, wanting to savor this peaceful moment for a while longer before I had to get up.

The ringing of my phone had me sighing in annoyance.

Luca grabbed it off the bedside table and handed it to me.

I glanced at the screen, and warmth spread through my chest. It was a video call from Will.

I answered instantly. “Will?”

The screen flickered, then stabilized.

Then came his face.

Not the usual whirlwind of caffeine-fueled brilliance. Not the wide, reckless grin I loved so much. This was… a ghost. Skin pale and stretched tight, dark circles ringing bloodshot eyes. A flickering monitor cast fractured light on his face, but it didn’t hide the misery in his eyes.

He had been crying.

“Celeste.” His voice cracked.

My blood turned to ice.

“What happened?” I asked, already shoving the covers off, legs moving before my mind could catch up. Dorian stirred behind me. Luca stood without a word. Vincenzo tensed, reading the dread in my posture.

Will didn’t speak right away. He pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead like it physically hurt to form words.

“I—I don’t know what to do,” he said in a tight voice. “I don’t even know how long it’s been. Three days? Four? Maybe more. I haven’t slept. I can’t eat. I can’t think.”

My throat constricted, and my heart started pounding. Something was seriously wrong. “Will. Breathe. Please. What happened?”

His lower lip trembled. “She’s gone,” he whispered.

All the air left my lungs as the words landed like a punch to gut. “Vivian?”

He nodded, then swallowed hard, the column of his throat rippling. Tears shone in his eyes.

“The Shadow took her.”

Thank you for reading Celeste’s story…