A Criminal Kiss [Max Verstappen]

chapter nine

Max P.O.V

The market was quiet, just the sound of the wind tugging at the faded awnings above the stalls. I kept my steps light, sticking to the edges of the narrow alleyways, careful not to rattle the crates stacked against the walls.

It wasn't glamorous work, stealing bread and apples like some petty thief, but I wasn't in a position to care about pride. Thomas needed to eat, and if it meant grabbing what I could under the cover of darkness, so be it.

My fingers brushed over the rough wood of a stall counter, the small pile of bruised fruit barely worth selling. I hesitated. Take too little, and it wouldn't last; take too much, and the shopkeeper would notice by morning. I reached for an apple, slipping it into my satchel, then another.

As I moved to the next stall, her face drifted into my mind. Annalise Cook. Damn her.

I didn't know why she came to mind now, of all times. Maybe it was the way she seemed so... untouchable. She had everything—wealth, power, the whole world handed to her on a silver platter—and yet, she seemed utterly miserable. It should've been funny, watching her stumble through a life that most people would kill for, but it wasn't. Not really.

I crouched down behind a stack of barrels, scanning for signs of anyone nearby before slipping a loaf of bread from the display. She wouldn't last a day out here. Not in the dirt, the cold, where you had to fight for every scrap. Annalise Cook would shrivel like a flower without her father's gilded walls to shield her.

And yet...

I thought of the way her face twisted when I said something that she dislikes, the way her jaw tightened as if she was holding back a retort. I liked pushing her, watching her squirm under the weight of my words. But it wasn't just about annoying her. There was something else—something I couldn't quite name.

She fought back. She always fought back. Most people—especially people like her—would turn up their noses and walk away. But not her. No, Annalise would bite back with words, not many, and quite poorly, but she would nevertheless.

The thought made me smirk, even as I darted behind another stall, my satchel growing heavier with stolen goods. It was absurd, really. She wasn't part of my world, and I wasn't part of hers. Whatever fascination I had with her was... temporary. Fleeting.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder what it would take to shake her composure completely.

The sound of footsteps snapped me out of my thoughts. My heart raced as I flattened myself against the wall, holding my breath.

No one appeared. Just the wind rattling the empty market. I exhaled slowly, shaking my head at myself.

I didn't have time to be distracted by some noble girl, no matter how fiery her spirit was. Thomas needed me, and that was all that mattered.

But as I slipped into the shadows, leaving the market behind, I couldn't quite banish the image of her from my mind. Annalise Cook. A girl with everything, and somehow, she still managed to look like she had nothing at all.

Annalise P.O.V

My father had dragged me out to town once again, parading me through the streets, searching for a husband, making appearances. For a man so adamant about locking me in the house until I secured a match, he seemed remarkably willing to take me out of it. 

Nevertheless, I was sick of it. 

It was always the same routine: smiles that didn't reach my eyes, conversations that felt more like transactions, and the suffocating weight of his expectations pressing down on my shoulders.