Page 80 of Their Reckless Thief (The Below #1)

CELESTE

The Phantomine flooded my veins like liquid fire, spreading a hazy warmth through my bones.

I’d taken more than intended, more than I needed to help me fall asleep.

It wasn’t long before I realized it was far more than I could handle, and the world around me began to sway, distorting and bending as if I were slipping into another realm.

My fingers trembled, the air around me thickening, colors and shadows blurring into twisted shapes I could almost recognize—hidden secrets, ancient memories tugging at the edges of my consciousness.

And then, in an instant, everything shifted.

I was no longer in Vincenzo’s mansion. The modern luxury dissolved into damp cobblestones and the muffled clatter of hooves on uneven stone.

The world around me transformed, dipping me into an era lost to time.

I took a breath, my nose filling with the scents of coal smoke, rain, and the faint aroma of fresh bread drifting from a nearby vendor.

Gas lamps cast a glow in the foggy, narrow alleyways, illuminating women in long, billowing skirts as they hurried past, their heads bowed as they whispered to one another.

I felt like a ghost, tethered here as if this place had been waiting for me—like I belonged here. My heart thundered with recognition. I drifted forward, pulled by an unseen force, until my gaze landed on a woman across the cobbled street, half-hidden in the shadows of a narrow alley.

She was strikingly beautiful and so hauntingly familiar. Her eyes, her hair… She looked like me. Her posture straightened, a quiet strength radiating from her. A name floated toward me, soft as a whisper, stirring something inside: Rachel.

My breath caught. Rachel. My great-great-grandmother, Rachel. Stories of her strength and power had been passed down to me when I was a young child. I remembered we’d had a framed photo in the hallway of her with other distant family members.

Rachel stepped farther into the alley. A tall, lean man in worn yet elegant clothes appeared opposite her. Everything about him screamed danger. He watched her intently, his dark gaze and low top hat giving him an aura of controlled menace.

“You need to be careful, Rachel. Your abilities are… unique. You have no idea the power you hold.”

Rachel scoffed and balled her hands into fists. “Why do you continue to appear to me?”

The man stepped even closer. He was close enough to kiss her, but he didn’t.

“Your ability to see the future is both a gift and a curse. The visions have the power to heal, to destroy, to bend the will of anyone who is privy to information that should only be reserved for God.” He brushed his finger against her neck, and Rachel turned her face in disgust. “Many would kill for such power.”

I felt the echoes of Rachel’s fear. For a moment, she seemed to lean into his touch, her defiance wavering, yet she stood firm, straightening her back and staring the man in the eyes. “What are your motives? Why don’t you eliminate me yourself if I’m as dangerous as you say?”

The man’s smirk softened. “I’m drawn to your strength.

I want to understand why you don’t fear me.

Perhaps we’re not so different after all.

” He touched her cheek for a brief second before he pulled away, taking a tentative step away.

“Others will come for your power, and you’ll have to make sacrifices to keep it safe. ”

I took note of the man’s pale skin and pointed teeth when he smiled faintly. This was a vampire speaking to my ancestor, warning her of the danger of using her psychic abilities.

The vision began to fade, Rachel and the man becoming blurry and the color muted. I tried to hold on to it, to ask Rachel more. I wanted to understand her psychic abilities and how she’d navigated her world seeing the future.

But it was too late. I jolted back to the present, my gasp loud in the silence.

I was left with the lingering foreboding of the vision, a dark and powerful truth about my blood and legacy pressing heavily on me. My great-great-grandmother had struggled with this power and had garnered the attention of a magical being all those years ago.

Cold, unforgiving light greeted me as I opened my eyes, but I was drenched in sweat, my pulse racing erratically, my mind still focused on Rachel’s face, her words, and the power I now knew came from her. My skin burned as if on fire, each heartbeat echoing the Phantomine’s fierce grip in my veins.

I stumbled forward, each step uneven as the walls blurred around me. I needed something—someone—to pull me fully back to the present. Before I knew it, I was in front of Vincenzo’s door. I didn’t knock. With a trembling hand, I shoved open the door with a force that made it slam against the wall.

Vincenzo, seated in his chair, shot to his feet at the noise, his sharp gaze locking onto me in an instant. The concern etched into his features twisted into a dark intensity as he took me in, his worry unmistakable.

“Celeste.” His voice, usually so measured and calm, was raw. His gaze raked over my disheveled state. “How much did you take?”

I tried to answer, but the words tangled in my throat, my vision tilting as the world seemed to crumble beneath me. The room started spinning, the edges melting together.

Before I could collapse, he caught me, pulling me against him as I struggled to stay conscious.

“You’re burning up.” He scooped me up and carried me into the bathroom, his movements quick, almost frantic.

“You need to cool down.” He turned on the faucet, the water splashing against the porcelain clawfoot tub.

I still tried to resist, every fiber of my body screaming at the coldness of reality creeping back in.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled shakily.

He ignored me as he lowered me into the icy water. It was brutal, tearing a gasp from my lips. I tried to squirm free, to escape the numbing cold, but Vincenzo’s hold on me was as brutal as the cold.

“Stop fighting, Celeste,” he commanded, though his tone was gentle. “This isn’t a choice. You’ve taken too much. You’re going to stay here until it passes. I need the cold to pull you from its grasp.”

The icy water jolted my senses awake bit by bit, but the ache, the hollow emptiness that the Phantomine always filled, was still there.

I clung to him, nails digging into his arm as I fought the urge to break down.

Everything was slipping, unhinged and raw, and I was terrified of what lay on the other side.

“Please. Please don’t take it away.”

Anger flashed across his face, but in his eyes, I saw only pain. He tightened his hold on me, brushing a damp strand of hair from my face, his voice soft but unyielding.

“No. You’re done with it, Celeste. You’re not going to kill yourself with this poison, not while you’re in my care.”

Desperation clawed up my throat, my lungs constricting with each breath. “You don’t understand. It helps. It’s the only thing that?—”

“That’s enough.” Keeping his gaze locked on mine, he pulled out his phone, dialing with one hand as he held me steady with the other. “Dorian, I want every last vial of Phantomine cleared out of Celeste’s room. And if you find any stashed anywhere else in the house, get rid of it. Now.”

“No!” Panic surged through me, and I thrashed against him, the cold water splashing over the edge of the tub as I tried to pull free. “Don’t… don’t do that!”

He ignored my desperate pleas, his grip unyielding, his eyes never leaving my face. “You’re going to get clean, Celeste. This ends tonight.”

I shook my head, tears streaming down my cheeks as I clung to him, the hollow ache inside me threatening to swallow me whole. “Please, don’t take it away from me. I need it?—”

He leaned down, his face inches from mine, and his voice, a low, controlled growl, chilled me to the bone. “You do something like this again, and I’ll make you regret it, Celeste. I decide when you die. No one else—not even you. Do you understand?”

I searched his face, looking for the cold, ruthless man I knew so well, but what I saw wasn’t only anger. Beneath the fury, beneath the iron control, was fear—raw, real fear—and a fierce protectiveness that softened the hardness in his gaze.

“Celeste,” he breathed, the anger in his voice ebbing into something fierce and quiet. “Do you really think I’d let you destroy yourself? Do you think I can stand by and watch that happen?”

I swallowed, my throat tight as the depth of his emotions crashed over me, making it hard to breathe. “Why do you care so much?” My voice was barely a whisper, the question spilling out before I could stop it.

He hesitated as he stroked my cheek, a vulnerability in his eyes that I’d never seen before. “Because you’ve come to mean more to me than I ever expected. This thing between us, whatever it is, I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to lose you.”

His confession warmed a part of me I thought had long gone cold. “I’m sorry, Vincenzo.” It was all I could manage.

He shook his head. “No more apologies. Just promise me you’ll try.”

I nodded. The Phantomine haze lifted slightly as his fierce, unwavering gaze held me in place.

He exhaled slowly, his eyes softening. He held me close as if he could shield me from the dark edges of my own mind. I pressed my cheek against his shoulder, and the reality of everything—the depth of his care, the finality of his decision—settled over me.

“I’m not letting you go, Celeste. Not now, not ever.”