You needed money.

That was the easiest way to say it.

You needed money, and it was a secret. You couldn't tell John. Couldn't tell his family—definitely couldn't tell Tommy. It was your secret to keep, your burden to bear, yours and yours alone.

It was the perfect time, too. Tommy had taken all the men out on a hunt, leaving you and the other women to run the shop for the day. Linda had come in and rallied for some sort of strike, and in the midst of it all, just as Polly tipped over the brink of insobriety, you'd offered to hold the keys 'for safe keeping' and slipped out of the chaos to make it back here.

The vault was large, the shelves stuffed with uncounted cash. Polly had meant to be counting it today, but instead she was marching laps of the Bullring. That meant nobody would notice a missing tenner. Or two.

Little did you know, though, a certain someone had followed you inside. He stepped closer to the vault, setting his gun on the paperwork that filled the nearby table, listening to you.

And he spoke. "We came back early."