The Thief Who Saved My Life

Prologue

Prologue (Tyler’s POV)

 

Well, fuck. This house is big. When Brandon said he found the jackpot, I assumed we were raiding some old lady’s house for a bit of expensive jewelry. But this place… it’s a fucking mansion.

Chandeliers, there are actual chandeliers hanging from the ceiling- yeah, more than one. I thought that was just something they put in movies to make Bruce Wayne’s house seem more elite, but apparently chandeliers are an actual thing that rich people do.

“Who’s house did you say this was?” I ask Brandon feeling a bit out of place here. Well, obviously I’m out of place, I’m just here to rob it, but usually we don’t attempt anything quite this… extravagant.

“Vincent Dupree,” he says and his grin grows impossibly wide when he sees my jaw drop.

“What the fuck man?” I keep my shout to a whisper but there’s no hiding the anger in my voice. “There’s got to be security or servants, places like this- someone is always home.” I don’t know exactly what the man does, but when you’re as rich as him, I don’t think it even matters. The whole world knows your name just because you have a shit ton of money.

“Relax dude,” my friend downplays the situation. “The old man is out of the country. I got a guy who’s in good with the daughter, says she always gives the help time off when she’s alone. And my guy promised to keep her distracted tonight, so chill.”

Yeah. Chill. We’re only attempting to rob one of the country’s wealthiest men, what am I thinking being nervous?

Note the sarcasm.

 How did I get in with such an idiot?

Because I’m a greedy ass who needs the payout and since there weren’t any card games worth my time, this seemed like my only option.

“In and out. You take the first two floors, I’ll get the third,” Brandon says and then runs upstairs to raid the top floor bedrooms for anything valuable.

I head into the kitchen and start pulling open drawers of silverware and emptying them into my backpack. The goal is to take enough to get a good pay off, but not so much that the owners will notice. We don’t want people getting suspicious.

I’m about the head upstairs when I hear rattling at the front door.

Shit. Damn. Shit.

Hide!

I dive behind some weird decorative statue thing and wait for the door to open holding my breath. A small girl stumbles through the entry looking frustrated as she kicks off her heels while muttering loudly about how much her feet hurt. She looks about my age, maybe a little younger. God, I hope she’s not much younger and wearing that dress. She closes the door behind her and leans against it looking… exhausted, maybe?

“Fuck you,” she says quietly and first I’m worried she’s talking to me. But she’s not looking at me and I’m sure she can’t see me past her dark hair hanging in front of her face.

“Fuck you!” She says much louder this time and stomps her boot against the tile causing an echo. I pull out my phone and send Brandon a text so he knows to stay away since the girl is home. Apparently his guy isn’t as good as he hoped.

Suddenly she pulls her hair up out of her face and ties it in a knot on top of her head. I can see her face and though she’s beautiful with delicate features; big brown eyes and a dusting of freckles, that’s not what catches me off guard. No, what takes me aback is the deadly, determined look on her face

She stomps up the stairs muttering to herself. I don’t know why I follow her when I should be hightailing it the fuck out of this house, but I do. Discreetly, I climb the stairs behind her. She’s so caught up in her own world of anger that I could probably be stomping loudly and whistling a tune without getting caught. She’s completely oblivious.

She walks into a bedroom that I assume is hers, but doesn’t close the door behind her. I stand in the hall watching through the crack in the door as she paces the floor back and forth.

I don’t know what internal argument the girl is having with herself, but I know the second she comes to a decision because she pauses mid-step and her lips curve into a sad sort of smile.

Slowly, she walks through another doorway and when I’m sure she’s not coming back, I inch through into her room, curious to know what happens next. I hear some clattering as she pulls what she’s looking for out a drawer in the bathroom.

She still hasn’t noticed me. This girl may very well be a complete idiot. I’m standing here, and if she turned around she’d see me and be completely helpless. What I was going to rape her? Or murder her or something? Lucky for her I’m not that type of guy. Brandon runs with those types occasionally though and if he was here tonight with one of them instead of me, she’d be a goner for sure.

The girl seems to be admiring her reflection for a brief moment and then picks up her phone and dials a number. I can hear the ring echoing through the bathroom as she waits for the person to pick up. After 3 or 4 I hear a muffled voice but can’t make out the conversation until the girl smiles and in an angelic voice says, “Rot in hell, Garret. You lose.”

Shouting is muffled over the line, but the girl doesn’t seems to care when she ends the call and picks up the blade.

Wait. What?

Before I can register what she’s doing the beautiful girl has already dragged the blade down one wrist. She cringes but doesn’t make a sound as she switches hands and repeats the action on her right wrist. When she falls to the ground seconds later I snap into action.

I rush into the bathroom and grab the girls face. Her eyes are closed and she looks almost peaceful laying here passed out.

“Shit.” I look around for a second before grabbing two fancy hand towels hanging as decoration for the room. “Brandon!” I shout loud enough for anyone in the house to hear.

“What the fuck dude! Did you kill her?” My friend sounds shocked and panicked when he arrives in the bathroom moments later.

“What? No dude! She did this to herself. Help me out.” I demand. “Call 911.” I shout when he stands there doing nothing.

“Du-dude. No. Let’s just leave her,” he demands sounding more panicked with each word.

“Brandon, what are you thinking, man? We can’t just leave her here to die!”

“Yes, we can. And we should. She obviously wanted to die, man let’s just go!”

“My phone’s in my pocket,” I say frustrated that Brandon would just abandon this girl. “Get it for me and dial, now! Just put it on speaker and get the fuck out of here. No one will know!”

He seems to debate it over for a moment but then nods and reaches into my pocket to get out my phone. He dials 911 and presses the speaker button before grabbing both our bags and running.

“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?”

I take a deep breath and answer all the questions I know, praying that I don't end up in jail for saving this girls life.