The sun hung high, casting a golden glow over the bustling streets as she moved through the crowd like a shadow, her hands a blur of precision. A flick of her fingers, a subtle brush against a coat, and another wallet disappeared into her pocket—no one the wiser. She was a ghost, a whisper in the daylight, her sleight of hand perfected over years of survival.

Then she saw him.

He stood out like a king among peasants, his tailored suit hugging his broad frame, a gold watch glinting at his wrist. His presence was magnetic, exuding power and elegance in equal measure. Her eyes narrowed, calculating. That one, she thought, his wallet’s probably stuffed. Without hesitation, she weaved through the crowd, closing the distance between them.

Her fingers danced, light as air, slipping into his pocket with practiced ease. But as she pulled back, his hand shot out, catching hers in an iron grip. She froze, her breath hitching as his dark eyes locked onto hers, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You’ve got nerve,” he said, his voice low and smooth, like velvet wrapped around steel. “But you should’ve picked someone else, little thief.”

Her heart raced, not just from fear, but from the way his gaze seemed to see straight through her. She had no idea who he was—only that she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.