Page 20 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)

VINCENZO

Her face was soft and relaxed in sleep, as if she hadn’t tried to drown herself a few hours ago. The steady rise and fall of her chest was a reminder that she was still here, still alive. Because I’d dragged her out of that tub. Because for some inexplicable reason I cared enough to stop her.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

My thoughts were a mess, a web of confusion and rage.

I couldn’t begin to unravel. Seeing her under that water, so fragile and broken, had sent me to places I’d sworn I would never go again.

It had unlocked doors I’d sealed shut years ago.

The memory of being out of control, of losing someone who meant everything to me, had taken over my body.

I’d acted on pure instinct. Knowing that a life was in danger, that someone I didn’t want to die was about to have their light snuffed out forever, was enough to throw me into a tailspin.

The memory hit me like a blade between the ribs—sharp, cold, and relentless.

Two hundred years ago, my father’s bellowing voice echoed through the halls of our estate, shaking the very foundation beneath my feet. He’d been enraged before, but this was different. There was panic beneath his fury, a rare crack in his iron facade.

“Find her, Vincenzo!” His words were a guttural roar as he slammed his fist against the hard oak of the dining room table. “Find your sister, or so help me, you’ll rue the day you were born!”

I froze under his glare, every muscle in my body stiff with fear. My father was a towering figure, all raw power and unrestrained malice. And now, he was directing all of that venom at me.

My sister, Clara, hadn’t come home the night before. It wasn’t like her to not be home at a reasonable hour.

“Do you hear me?” he spat, taking a step closer. “If Clara isn’t found by nightfall, you’ll wish you were never born!”

“Yes, F-Father,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

My stomach churned as I bolted from the room, my mind already spinning with possibilities.

Clara had vices, yes—she loved the thrill of the forbidden—but she was careful.

Always careful. She knew better than to test the dangers of The Below.

Where the hell could she be?

I stripped off my shirt and let my wings unfurl.

In one fluid motion, I was in the air. The streets blurred past me as I raced through the territory, my wings slicing through the damp air as I flew to the only place I could think of—Ronan’s house.

Clara had been seeing the shifter behind Father’s back for months.

Perhaps she’d gone there, lost track of time, and fallen asleep in his bed. It had to be that.

It had to be.

I touched down in front of Ronan’s modest wooden house, my breath ragged, my chest heaving. Something felt wrong. The air was too still, too quiet, and dread clawed its way up my spine.

I banged on the thick wooden door. “Ronan, open the damn door!”

No response.

The silence pressed down on me, suffocating. “Clara! Are you in there?” My voice cracked, panic edging every syllable.

Still nothing.

I stepped back, scanning the house. A flash of blue in the corner of my eye caught my attention. The color stopped me in my tracks. It was the exact shade of the dress Clara had worn the day before. The delicate material was now splayed out across the ground in the backyard.

“No,” I whispered. My legs moved on their own, carrying me around the house. Each step felt heavier than the last, and my vision tunneled as I approached the still figure lying face-down in the dirt.

“Clara!” The word tore from my throat as I dropped to my knees beside her. I turned her over, desperation coursing through my veins. Her face was pale, her lips blue. Her eyes stared blankly at the sky, seeing nothing.

She was gone.

A guttural scream tore from my chest. I cradled her lifeless body in my arms, inhaling the scent of her favorite perfume that still clung faintly to her skin.

Beneath it was another scent, something acrid and chemical.

My eyes darted to the ground around us, where several empty bottles of the addictive drug were scattered.

“No,” I choked, my voice breaking. “No, no, no.”

The drug had taken her. I’d seen it before—the euphoria, the escape it promised. Clara had dabbled before, but she’d always pulled back before it consumed her. This time, it hadn’t let her go.

And Ronan? He was nowhere to be found. The coward had abandoned her, left her to die alone.

I should have been here. I should have stopped this. I should have protected her. But I hadn’t. I’d failed her.

A cold, empty void formed in my chest as I rocked her lifeless body, my tears mingling with the blood that stained her dress. I couldn’t save her. No one could. My sister—my only family—was gone.

The sound of heavy footsteps startled me. My father’s imposing figure cast a shadow over me, his face a mask of cold fury. He looked down at Clara’s lifeless form, the muscles in his jaw tightening. There was no grief in his eyes. Only anger. Disgust.

“She was weak. Good riddance.”

Something inside me snapped. I stood and clenched my fists to keep the rage coursing through me at bay. “She was your daughter,” I hissed.

“She was a liability. Just like you’ll be if you let this weakness fester. Emotions make you vulnerable, Vincenzo. Weak. And weakness gets you killed.”

His words cut deeper than any blade ever could, but I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The man standing before me was no father. He was a monster. And in that moment, I made a vow that would define me for the rest of my life.

I would never let anyone make me weak again. Love was a trap, a poison that destroyed everything it touched. I didn’t need it. I didn’t need anyone.

Clara’s lifeless eyes burned into my memory, a haunting reminder of the cost of vulnerability. And as I carried her body back to the estate, my heart hardened, encased in stone.

From that day forward, I would be the master of my own fate. Cold. Ruthless. Unyielding.

And I would never, ever allow myself to love again.

Celeste had been so still under the water, so fucking defeated. And the way she had looked at me when I pulled her out—like she didn’t care if I was saving her or dragging her deeper into hell.

That had done me in.

Was I any better than my father?

There were security cameras all over her room. I’d even tasked one of my security guards to watch the feeds around the clock and alert me if anything went awry.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to block out the image.

Not just what happened, but her. Celeste.

This woman had come barreling into my life like a storm, unraveling every piece of me with every glance, every smart-ass comment, and every defiant look she gave me.

And now here she was, lying next to me, completely unaware of the war raging inside me. .. because of her.

I couldn’t live like this. I couldn’t feel like this.

She needed to go.

I trusted her survival instincts would make her keep her damn mouth shut and not tell anyone what she’d heard during her time at my mansion. I didn’t, however, trust her not to harm herself.

I stared at her sleeping form, my mind racing with the twisted irony of it all.

She thought she was so fucking strong, always trying to play the tough girl.

But she was human. So fragile, so fucking delicate, like a flower petal that could be crushed with a single touch.

I could snap her neck without even trying, could end her existence as easily as I’d saved it.

The thought of anyone else doing that to her, even if it was Celeste doing the damage to herself, made every cell in my body revolt. The idea of someone else hurting her, breaking her… That wasn’t going to fucking happen. Not while I still had breath in my lungs.

She has to go. For her sake. For mine.

I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath. I had to keep the mask on. The indifference. She couldn’t witness me break. She couldn’t know the chaos she was stirring inside me.

She stirred next to me, her eyelids fluttering as she woke.

I watched her closely, my entire body tensing as she met my gaze.

Those hazel eyes, still clouded with the remnants of sleep, locked onto me.

For a moment, there was no barrier between us, only a shared understanding of something neither of us could name.

“Why did you stay?” she asked, her voice still husky with sleep.

I couldn’t answer her. If I said it out loud, I’d be admitting something I wasn’t ready to confront.

Instead, I clenched my jaw and slipped that mask back on. Cold. Distant. “You’re free to go.”

Her eyes widened in confusion, like she hadn’t heard me right. “What?”

I stood, rolling my shoulders to shake off the weight of everything I wasn’t saying. “Leave. Go back to your human life. Play at being normal. Never fucking come back to The Below.”

She sat up, gaping at me like I’d slapped her. “Are you serious?”

I leveled my gaze at her, feeling the fury coil tighter in my chest. “If I ever get word that you’ve tried to kill yourself again, or if you put yourself in another dangerous situation, I will personally come and kill everyone in your life.

Then I’ll bring you back here, and you’ll live out the rest of your days in a padded room under my watch.

And don’t misunderstand me. If I decide you’re useful to me, at any point in the future, I will come get you, and you will have nowhere to hide.

I still own you, you just won’t be living under my roof. ”

She looked like she wanted to protest, but I wasn’t giving her a choice.

“Do you understand?” I snarled, rising to my full height over her.