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Exhaustion weighs down my eyelids. It’s a seven-hour train ride to Bern, Switzerland —give or take an hour to account for any unexpected delays— but I can’t really afford to sleep. I need to be on high alert at all times. If I were traveling with my crew, I’d consider a quick power nap because I could rely on Dad, Martin, Harry, Laura, or Lucius to keep an eye out.
Well. Not so much Lucius.
Just thinking about him pisses me off.
We were close, the six of us. A team, one solid unit. We’ve been through countless jobs together. Had each other’s backs, protected each other when things got dicey. The life of a career thief is a lonely one, which is all the more reason why our crew was so special. We were a family.
And Lucius betrayed us. For fuckingmoney.
I shift in my seat, molars grinding. If Lucius wanted out, he could have told us. Dad probably would have been more than happy to set up another heist so Lucius could take his cut and retire to Fiji or Hawaii or literally anywhere in the world. But no, he had to go and do the easy thing and screw us over.
I must have accidentally nodded off at some point because the buzz of my burner phone jolts me upright. It’s a message from the traitor. Lucius has attached another grainy picture of Dad looking worse for wear along with two words:six days.
I sneer at the tiny screen. I’m going as fast as I can. If he thinks giving me a countdown reminder is helpful, he can shove his phone up his ass.
Fighting the urge to message him back to say exactly that, I notice movement out of the corner of my eye. Passengers have been coming and going infrequently between cars, but my gut tells me to look up this time.
My heart leaps up and lodges in my throat.
It’s Mr. Asshole Broken Nose from the library!
What. The. Fuck.
I shrink in on myself, praying to God he doesn’t notice me. Behind him are two other equally big, equally ugly men. Probably backup. They slowly make their way forward, peeking at sleeping passengers and checking every single row they pass. They’re about twenty rows away, but they’ll definitely see me if I get up now. As they move, I catch a glint of something inside their jackets.
Guns.
I barely made it out alive the first time. I don’t like my odds now that it’s one versus three. Not to mention I’m unarmed and they’re packing heat. Going toe to toe with them is out of the question. There’s no time to ask what they’re doing here or how they managed to find me. Right now, I need to figure out my escape.
Think Rocky, think!
“There she is!” Mr. Broken Nose exclaims, pointing a fat sausage finger at me.
Never mind.
I shoot up out of my chair and make a mad dash to the next car.
BANG!
I duck out of the way, my heart threatening to burst as they open fire. Passengers awaken with screams, frantically shouting in their confusion. Guilt weighs heavily in my chest. I can’t believe these bastards are opening fire so close to civilians. It’s heartless and disgusting. What if someone gets hurt?
I need to lead them away.
They’re hot on my heels. I’m pretty sure a bullet whizzes past my head, creating a hole straight through the train car’s wall.
“Don’t shoot her!” one of the men yells. “Favreaux needs her alive!”
I keep running, barely able to hear over the pounding war drum in my chest. I’m officially at the back of the train. There’s no more room to run unless I want to throw myself off the high-speed train going 185 miles per hour.
“Well, well, well,” Mr. Broken Nose says to me with an awful glint in his eye. “Looks like you’re all ours, girlie.”
I sneer. “If you come any closer, I’m going to knock your fucking teeth out.”
They laugh menacingly, hooting and chuckling like they’re more amused than intimidated by the fact that I’m showing my claws. They don’t see me as a threat, but that’s fine. It’s their funeral.
I glance around and spot the emergency brake. I lunge for it, lifting the clear plastic protection cover before practically ripping the red-painted lever off the wall.
The train lurches violently, the sharp scream of the wheels grinding against the rails. The sudden shift in velocity sends my attackers flying, their bodies too big and clumsy to properly brace in time. They domino against one another, smacking their heads against the floor, the far train wall, each other’s skulls. I’m luckily able to brace myself against the back of a seat, holding my breath as I wait for the opportune moment to make my escape.
