The low hum of the engine purred under the conversation, a barely-there murmur that filled the empty spaces between words. Rain streaked down the windshield, each drop making the night outside seem more impenetrable, more secretive.
"Are you sure about this?" Maya’s voice was a tight whisper, laced with both excitement and trepidation. Her eyes flickered nervously toward the backseat where Jordan sat, arms crossed, jaw set.
Jordan didn’t look up, just stared out the window, as if he could already see their destination looming through the thick blanket of darkness. "We’ve been over this, Maya. It’s a clean job. In and out, nobody gets hurt."
"Yeah, unless you count us getting caught," she muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around herself as if it could shield her from the uncertainty gnawing at her insides.
"Nobody’s getting caught," Ryan cut in from the driver’s seat, his voice steady, reassuring. He glanced at Maya, flashing the confident grin that had always worked like a charm. "Trust me. This guy lives alone, miles from anyone. We get what we need, and we’re gone before he even knows we were there."
"But he's blind," Maya said, her tone conflicted. "It feels wrong."
"That’s exactly why it's so easy," Jordan interjected, finally turning his gaze from the window. His eyes met Maya's, holding them in a serious stare. "The guy’s got something we need. He’s sitting on a goldmine, and we’re just making a withdrawal."
Maya’s heart thudded uncomfortably in her chest. She knew they were desperate—she, Jordan, and Ryan were all scraping by, each weighed down by debts they couldn’t escape, haunted by the lives they were trying to leave behind. This was supposed to be their way out, their chance at freedom.
But robbing a blind man, alone in his dilapidated mansion? It was one thing to imagine it, another to go through with it.
Ryan slowed the car as they neared their destination. The house loomed ahead, an old, crumbling relic of a different era, half-swallowed by the surrounding forest. The rain had turned the gravel driveway into a slick, muddy path, making the place seem even more isolated, more forgotten.
"We stick to the plan," Jordan said, breaking the silence as Ryan killed the engine. He reached into his bag and pulled out a set of tools, the metallic clink of metal against metal sending a shiver down Maya's spine. "We get in, find the stash, and get out. No detours, no screw-ups."
Maya nodded, trying to suppress the gnawing unease in her gut. They couldn’t afford to screw this up. Not now. Not after everything.
As they stepped out into the night, the rain soaking through their clothes almost instantly, Maya couldn’t shake the feeling that they were about to step into something far darker than they had imagined.
The house stood silent, watching them.
---
The door creaked open with a soft groan, the sound unnervingly loud in the stillness of the night. Jordan motioned for them to be silent as he slipped inside, followed closely by Ryan and Maya. The air in the house was stale, thick with the scent of dust and something else, something faintly metallic.
Maya’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow bursts as they moved through the dimly lit hallway. The house felt like a tomb, every sound they made amplified by the oppressive silence. She wished she could see better, but the darkness seemed to swallow the meager light from their flashlights.
Ryan led the way, his movements quick and purposeful. He had done his research—plans of the house, the blind man’s routine, everything they needed to ensure success. But now that they were inside, the confidence he had radiated earlier seemed to waver.
