Page 41 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)

CELESTE

Five missed calls from Roberto.

I stared at my phone as the screen lit up with his name yet again.

My pulse quickened, my nerves on edge. Roberto never called more than once unless it was serious…

unless he knew something. I was avoiding him so I could get my story straight and craft the perfect lie.

The truth was too dangerous, too messy. And I couldn’t afford to let anything slip, not around him.

He’d pick up on any crack in my aura, any sign of weakness. He always did.

I sighed, running a shaky hand through my hair before I finally answered.

“Roberto,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

There was a pause on the other end. It stretched on too long, too tense, then his voice came through, smooth, controlled, chilling. “Celeste.”

Just hearing him say my name gave me a chill. Roberto never raised his voice. He didn’t have to. That cold calmness was worse than any yelling.

“I’ve been calling,” he said, and even though his tone stayed level, I could hear the underlying irritation. The disappointment.

“I know. I?—”

“I require your presence at my office. Now.”

There was no arguing with that. His voice left no room for questions or excuses. The icy grip of fear twisted in my stomach. “Of course. I’ll be there soon.”

He hung up before I could say anything else.

My heart threatened to tear out of my chest. Roberto knew something. He had to. Why else would he be so persistent? My palms were damp with sweat as I tossed the phone onto the bed. Anxiety crept into every crevice of my body, squeezing my lungs, tightening my throat.

I wasn’t ready to face him.

I reached for the vial of Phantomine, my fingers brushing the cool glass, but then Luca’s voice cut through the panicked haze in my mind. Don’t use it as a crutch.

I squeezed my eyes shut and let go of the vial. It was okay to feel fear, to feel anxiety, to feel anything. I couldn’t rely on Phantomine whenever things got hard.

I could barely breathe. How was I supposed to lie to Roberto? How was I supposed to keep everything under control?

My trembling hand hovered over the vial again.

You need to feel this. You need to get through this without the drugs.

The fear, though... it was too much. I could barely think straight.

“Fuck this,” I muttered as I twisted the vial open. I needed to be sharp. I needed to be calm. And I couldn’t do that like this.

I tipped the vial back and let the Phantomine slide down my throat. The familiar rush hit me instantly, dulling the edges of my panic, smoothing over the cracks in my composure, just enough to get through this, just enough to keep me steady.

I let out a slow breath as the anxiety faded and that familiar sense of control washed over me. I shoved the vial into my bag, grabbed my jacket, and headed for the door. Roberto was waiting, and I needed to be ready for whatever came next. Even if it destroyed me.

I took the familiar route to Roberto’s office, my mind racing despite the numbness creeping in.

The package from the heist was in my bag.

I hadn’t opened it—Roberto would want to keep the contents secret.

Everything he did was calculated, and he kept most of his plans hidden from his thieves and spies.

I had planned to take it to him once I’d cleared my head, but now I had no choice.

I paused outside the building, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

My fingers brushed the cool metal of the doorknob before I finally pushed it open and stepped inside.

The flickering fluorescent light overhead cast eerie shadows over the lobby.

The scent of mildew clung to the walls, mixing with the stale cigarette smoke from whoever had passed through earlier.

I climbed the narrow staircase to Roberto’s office, my boots thudding against the wooden steps. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the air itself thickened as I ascended. The Phantomine wasn’t doing much to dull the edge at the moment.

When I reached his office door, I paused for a second, my hand hovering over the doorknob. I could still leave. Walk away. Disappear.

No, that wasn’t an option. I was in too deep. I had to convince Roberto that everything was fine. That I hadn’t been followed and certainly hadn’t been saved by a ruthless mafia leader.

I took another breath, swallowed hard, then finally turned the knob and entered.

Roberto sat behind his desk, his back to the window. The weak light filtering through made his silhouette look darker, more menacing. He didn’t even glance up as I walked in and pulled the package out of my bag. I tossed it onto his desk.

“How’d it go?”

“Fine. In and out.” My tone was as flat as his. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it affected me. My chest was tight, and my skin crawled from being in the same room with him.

For a moment, I thought that would be it. Transaction over. He’d take the loot, give me a new assignment, and I’d be out of there.

Before I could blink, he was out of his chair, charging at me faster than I could react. His hand closed around my throat, and before I knew it, I was pinned against the doorframe, gasping for breath.

Fuck, not again.

Panic surged through me. I clawed at his wrist, trying to pry him off, but his grip was iron. My lungs screamed for oxygen, my vision going hazy around the edges.

“Let me make this clear, doll,” Roberto growled, his voice low and venomous. “You are mine. Mine to use. Mine to profit from. Mine to turn into the best damn thief this world has ever known.” He squeezed tighter, and I saw stars. “You are no one else’s.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The walls of the office were closing in around me, suffocating me, as his words cut deeper than any wound ever could. He was slowly walking me backward out of his office.

“You’ll keep your whore legs closed,” he spat, his face inches from mine, his breath hot against my skin, “and you will do as you’re told.”

I clawed at his arm again, digging my nails into his skin, but it was no use. The pressure around my throat increased, my pulse hammering beneath his grip.

“Just to help you remember what a privileged little bitch you are, you’ll sleep on the streets for the next month.

You and your little helper. Maybe you’ll remember who keeps the lights on.

” His voice dripped with malice as he slowly began backing me toward the door, his grip never loosening.

“You are no longer worthy of being in my presence. Earn it the fuck back. Or else.”

Roberto owned our apartment—as well as Will’s—and allowed us to rent from him at a steep discount. There was no way we could find anything affordable in the city, especially not with only twenty-four hours’ notice.

Before I could give my newfound homelessness a second thought, my heel caught the edge of the stairs right as Roberto released me. My foot slipped, and I tumbled backward down the narrow staircase.

Pain exploded through me as I hit each step on the way down, my back slamming against the sharp edges of the wood. My limbs flailed, unable to stop the fall. By the time I reached the bottom, I was a crumpled heap on the cold, hard floor.

I lay there, chest heaving as I tried to process the pain. My body ached, every inch of me screaming in agony. I took a quick inventory. Nothing broken. Nothing that couldn’t heal, but the damage went deeper than that. It always did.

I pulled myself up slowly, my muscles protesting with every movement.

Bruises were already forming, spreading like ink beneath my skin.

It wasn’t the physical pain that hurt the most, though.

It was the sting of his words. The reminder that no matter what I did, I would never be enough for Roberto.

I would never earn his pride or his approval.

I blinked away the tears that threatened to fall, gritting my teeth as I pushed through the haze of pain and humiliation. My body screamed at me to stop, to rest, but I couldn’t.

I limped out of the building, each step sending jolts of pain through my battered body. The chill of the evening hit me as I stepped outside, but I barely felt it. How was I going to break the news to Vivian that we were homeless now?

Again.

I tasted blood in my mouth, the metallic tang mixing with the bitterness that lingered in my throat. I had done everything I could to make Roberto proud, to prove my worth, but it was never enough. I was never enough.

The streets stretched out before me, unforgiving and cold. My chest tightened as I realized the gravity of the situation. We had nowhere to go. No safety net. I was dragging Vivian down with me.

Darkness was coming, and with it all the creatures of the night. Tonight, I might let them swallow me whole.

I clenched my fists at my sides. I needed to figure something out that would keep us afloat. Right now, all I could do was walk. One step after another, each one more painful than the last.

I ignored the pain and kept moving. I had to.

Back at the apartment, the normally calm atmosphere tilted as soon as Vivian saw me stumble through the door.

It had always been a safe space for us—a tiny, messy haven we had carved out in a world that often felt too chaotic to handle.

Today, though, the bruises on my skin and the sharp pain in my ribs made even the air feel oppressive.

Vivian’s eyes went wide when she saw me, her mouth parting in shock before she quickly masked her expression. “Celeste...” Her voice was tight, controlled, but I could hear the fury simmering beneath it. “What the hell did he do to you?”

Will was lounging on the couch, but the second he saw me, he shot up, his carefree, boyish demeanor gone in an instant.

“What the fuck?” He crossed the room to stand beside me, his gaze darting over the bruises peeking out from under my collar and sleeves. “I’m gonna kill that bastard.”