DELILAH (18+)

1

"The rain is a thief," she concluded.

Deft and silent in its craft, it descended from the heavens with a gentle sigh, pilfering the warmth of day and robbing the skies of their azure brilliance as it cloaked the world in a shroud of melancholic gray. The sun, once a sovereign in the firmament, was obscured, its golden reign stolen away by the relentless patter.

Each droplet was a tiny marauder, a glistening bandit that captured the vibrancy of blooming flowers, dulling their colors with a sheer veil of moisture. The rain filched the vibrant hues from gardens, turning their splendor into muted whispers of their former selves. It took the laughter of children playing in the streets and replaced them with the soft, rhythmic drumming on rooftops and leaves.

She sat cross legged hundreds of feet above the ground and watched raindrops trace languid paths down building walls, her thoughts steeped in a haze of melancholy as she gazed at the world... a world drenched in the dreary drizzle of yet another dismal Saturday.

She and the rain were similar to some extent. The rain left behind a fresh scent and a chill in the air, just as she left her unknowing clients a million dollars or two less richer after each visit. They both come and go, unpredictable and sometimes unwelcome, yet always leaving a mark.

She rose to her feet just as the rain slowed to a dull patter, eye gaze firmly trained on the penthouse across the street; temporary home to another billionaire playboy no doubt. She hadn't done much research on the details but the intel she'd gathered on his perpetual absence from his newly acquired home seemed to be all the information she required to carry on with the next phase of her plan.

With a quick check of her equipment, she launched the hook, watching as it latched onto the balcony railing of her target.

With fluid precision, she rappelled down, her movements swift and silent against the backdrop of the falling rain. She landed softly on the penthouse balcony, her senses heightened by the quiet hum of the city below. Taking a deep breath, she approached the glass doors, her fingers deftly working a portable glass cutter. Within moments, she had created a small, perfect circle, reaching through to unlock the door.

Slipping inside, she paused to survey her surroundings. The penthouse, seemingly empty, exuded an air of opulence and sophistication. She moved through the spacious living area, her footsteps soundless on the plush carpet. Using her night-vision goggles, she scanned for security systems, quickly disabling a couple of discreetly placed cameras with a handheld EMP device.

Navigating through the rooms, she marveled at the understated luxury-marble floors, modern art, and bespoke furniture. Yet, her focus remained unshaken as she made her way to the study, where she believed the target item was hidden. She reached a large, ornate safe, pulling out her lock-picking tools and setting to work. Each click of the tumblers felt like a heartbeat, the tension mounting with every second.

The safe door finally swung open, revealing a stash of cash, valuable items and confidential documents.

Bingo!

A smirk played on her lips as she extracted the item she was after; the thick wads of cash of course, and pocketed it into the small sling bag slung over her shoulder.

Just as she turned to leave, a sound caught her attention-a soft rustling, almost imperceptible, but enough to make her freeze.

Emerging from the shadows was a tall, muscular man, his presence both imposing and unexpected. With his gun trained on her, he moved with the quiet confidence of someone who had anticipated this intrusion.

"Looking for something?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender as he approached her, but her mind was already calculating her next move. And in a swift, unexpected twist, she twisted her upper body, kicking out and knocking the gun from his hand. The weapon skidded across the room, and she was on her feet in an instant, her body a blur of agile movements.