I'm always two steps ahead. Always well-informed. Always ready for any kind of shitstorm.
But this? This is territory I've never crossed.
His cold fingers slide through my hair before yanking it, dragging my limp body toward him. His face is inches from mine.
"Where is it?" he asks, calm and composed.
I chuckle bitterly, wiping the blood from my mouth.
"Fuck you."
Silence fills the room. His predator-like eyes lock onto mine, dark and unblinking. I feel his nails dig into my scalp, sharp and cruel. I begin to cry, softly begging for mercy.
But he's unmoved.
In an instant, I'm flung through the air like a rag doll. The crack of my back slamming against the wall echoes through the room. I crumple to the floor, sobbing.
I can't take this anymore.
He's a monster.
A demon.
He walks toward me—slow, deliberate.
This time, he gently lifts my chin. Our eyes meet, and he smiles... so kindly.
And I let out another sob.
"Please... stop," I whisper. "I'll tell you where it is. Just stop. Please."
He pauses, taken aback by my surrender. I'm tired of fighting.
"It's inside me," I say, my voice barely audible. I summon what little strength I have left and point to my neck.
His eyes widen in shock.
In a flash, he lifts me again and rips open my shirt, exposing my chest. I cry out once, instinctively covering myself, but he doesn't care. He's not interested in my body—he's scanning my neck, panic flickering across his face.
"Please... don't kill me."
My plea barely leaves my lips before he lets out an enraged roar, and my body is flung across the room once more.
This time, I land hard and cold.
Water.
Did he throw me into the sink?
He stands over me, his face blank, his voice low.
"What am I going to do with you, little tiger?"
Tiger.
Oh, right... that's what I called myself last night when I introduced myself to him.
Back then, he was a work of art. Mysterious. Beautiful. I thought he was just another emotionally unavailable man.
But he's worse.
He's the devil's son.
I inhale deeply and close my eyes, letting Rain work her magic. She giggles as she starts doing my makeup.
"Girl, you're gonna look so damn good," she says with a wink.
"I better," I laugh.
The smile on my face is real.. A little dose of dopamine shoots through me, and I let it ride.
I never thought days like this would come. Three years ago, I ran away with nothing—no money, no plan, just a will to survive. And now?
Now, I've got more than I ever thought possible.
"This is gonna be your last job, right?" Rain asks.
Just like that, the air in the room shifts. Heavy. Tense.
I roll my eyes. "Rain…"
She gives me that look—big, sad eyes and a pout that always gets to me. I match her expression, and we both burst into giggles again.
"No, seriously," she presses, brushing a strand of my hair back. "I just have a bad feeling about this one. It's different, Rose. Like... really different. I keep dreaming something bad's gonna happen."
"Shhh." I cut her off gently. "Fifty-three million," I say, letting the number linger.
I start chanting it like a prayer: "Fifty-three million. Fifty-three million."
She groans but joins in.
Soon, we're both laughing, dancing around the apartment, chanting like idiots high on hope.
Rain's been my ride-or-die since I hit L.A. We met at Klein's Strip Club, both hustling for rent money under neon lights and sleazy hands. I hated every second of it—the way they looked at us, the things they said.
I wanted out. So I took what I had—agility, flexibility, guts—and turned it into something else.
Stealing.
I steal from the rich, and I make myself rich through them.
Sometimes, all it takes is an email. Just one, with a few carefully chosen images attached.
Rain swears it's going to get me killed one day. But here's the thing I've learned about the rich:
They don't really care.
Not unless you're draining them dry or threatening their reputation. Keep it quiet, keep it clean—they pay, and they forget.
"Let's take a selfie!" Rain grins, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the mirror. Our heels click across the hardwood floor like a countdown.
We squeeze together, posing, pouting, laughing.
And I have to say—we look delicious.
Rain's dressed like a lioness, her curls pulled into a fierce high ponytail with golden-blonde tips that catch the light. Her makeup? Flawless. It makes her brown eyes pop like warm honey. Honestly, she looks more like a dangerously cute deer—but don't let the sweetness fool you.
As for me?
My auburn hair spills down over my tight tiger-print bodysuit, the color catching fire under the lights. My green eyes—light, emerald, just like my mama's—spark in the reflection.
"What should I caption it?" Rain asks, typing with her thumb. "'8-figure bodies'? Or 'Purrfect'? Ooh—'Lynx Queens'?"
"Mmm... go for Lynx Queens," I say.
"Done," she says with a grin, and hits post.
We rush out of the house, still giggling, high on anticipation. We slip into my convertible Porsche—one of many gifts bought and paid for by my special emails.
I grip the wheel.
My lips curve into a satisfied smile.
As we cruise through the LA hills, music blaring and wind whipping through our hair, I can't help but think:
The night belongs to us.
We finally arrive at the mansion.
It's sleek — all white and black, modern and massive. I've been here before.
I know this place.
Plenty of rich fools have thrown parties here, and I've stolen from them all without breaking a sweat.
"You're Hannah, I'm Jade," Rain reminds me, mid-selfie.
She's already working her angles like it's her job — because, well, it kind of is.
We step out of the Porsche, heels clicking, hips swinging. The bouncers part for us like we're royalty. A waiter greets us at the entrance with cocktails. We clink glasses and giggle.
"Oh yeah," Rain grins. "It's gonna be that kind of night."
I scan the room. It's packed.
Women in sleek black cat costumes, a few tigers prowling around, but none like us.
We stand out. On purpose.
"I'm gonna go find Scott," I say.
Rain nods, already sipping her drink, her eyes scanning the room in a dancer's rhythm.
I drift away, taking in the space. It's high-end, sure, but not flashy. Which means whatever valuables are here, they're subtle — hidden in plain sight.
I know these people. They don't know me, but I've studied them.
The rich are like herds of cattle — flashy, loud, and easily distracted.
Finally, I spot Scott.
He's on the dance floor, hands full of some girl dressed as a black cat. She's grinding on him like it's a performance. His fingers run through her hair, and they share a kiss like nobody else exists.
Damn.
Looks like someone's having a good time.
I could signal him, but that might draw attention. Instead, I walk by — casual — and let out a low whistle.
His head snaps up like I hit a nerve.
I start to dance, letting the music move through me.
A moment later, he's behind me.
"Hey, sweet cheeks."
"If you rub your dick on my ass, I'll step on it," I say, without even turning.
He laughs. "Turn around."he saysI do. Wrap my arms around him. Smile.
Blend.
"Intel. Now." I say ,i dont have time to waste.
He leans in, whispering low. "Upstairs. Host's room."
"Which host?" I ask, arching a brow. "Harvey? STD Mike?"
He chuckles. "Nope. It's someone new."
That piques my interest.
He pulls me closer. His lips brush my ear.
"Void."
And then... I see him.
I lift my gaze and bam — there he is.
The most beautiful man I've ever seen.
Curly hair slicked back, jaw sharp enough to cut glass. His dark eyes pour into mine like ink. His lips — soft, pink, kissable. Dangerous.
He's dressed in all black. A funeral suit on a sin.
And he's staring at me like I'm the only one in the room.
I push Scott away, already walking toward him.
I've never seen this one before.
Is it wrong for the tiger to be interested in the cattle?
But something tells me — he's not cattle, but i dont think he's cattle ,maybe he's a different bred but I like.
Still... his eyes haven't left mine.
"I'm guessing you're Void?" I ask, stopping just close enough to tease.
He raises an eyebrow. "And you are?"
"I'm Tiger." I flash him my best flirtatious smile, the kind that makes rich men forget how to breathe.
He chuckles. "And these are your people?" he asks, nodding to the other tiger-costumed girls across the room.
"Something like that," I say, sipping my cocktail.
His smile spreads, teeth white and perfect.
He could sell me lies and I'd buy them and probably resell them.
But then, his expression shifts.
His smile fades. His eyes go dark, unreadable.
He stares at my lips. Then my eyes. Then back again.
He leans in, and I catch the scent of expensive cologne... and alcohol.
"Ayanda," he whispers, "Can I kiss you?"
The name slices through my buzz.
I jerk back.
"Ayanda?"
I blink.
"Nope. Boy, bye," I say, waving him off and strutting away.
There's always something wrong with the cute ones.
But this just made things easier.
I head for the stairs with a smirk tugging at my lips.
Void might be beautiful, but he's clearly drunk, maybe even high.
And that's fine by me.
Because now, this job?
This is going to be easy.
Retirement-level easy.