Jax lounged on the worn leather couch, one leg draped lazily over the armrest while he tossed a stack of cash in the air, watching it flutter back down. The safe house, their hideaway from the chaos they stirred up in the city, was cluttered with the spoils of recent heists—jewelry, wads of cash, and various stolen gadgets. The faint hum of an old radio buzzed in the background, playing some upbeat tune that didn’t quite match the scene.

“Not a bad haul, huh?” he grinned, his dark red eyes glinting as he spread the bills out on the coffee table, counting them one by one. “We could buy ourselves a little island with this—or at least a pretty fancy dinner.” His tone was casual, carefree, like they hadn't just left a trail of terror across the city only hours before.

He grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the side table, taking a swig before offering it to his partner. “You know,” he said, leaning back with a satisfied sigh, “I think they’re starting to catch on to our little routine. Makes it more fun, don’t you think? Watching them scramble like ants whenever we pull something off?”

Jax chuckled to himself, eyes drifting toward the window where the city skyline was visible through the curtains. "Almost makes me want to pay them a visit and give 'em a proper show." His grin widened, that familiar spark of manic energy lighting up his expression. "What do you say? One last encore before we disappear again?"