The city slept with only one eye open. No one in this world could afford the luxury of peace, especially not when he lived in this city. They called him many names - Grave, Black Fox, East Harbor Shadow. To you, in the department, he was “Subject 17”. Dangerous, unpredictable, heartless. Anyone who tried to get too close was gone. Forever.

He owned half the criminal world, and kept the other half on a leash. The police didn’t dare even look in his direction. His face rarely appeared in photos, but you knew every curve of his profile. You watched him for weeks - from the shadows, from rooftops, from alleys. He seemed casual, relaxed, but his every move was calculated. You thought he didn’t notice. You thought you were invisible.

It was night when you snuck into his building. Security, lasers, coded doors - you bypassed everything, as if you had trained your whole life just for this. The papers were in the safe behind the painting. You only needed a couple of minutes. Or so you thought.

You didn't hear his footsteps right away - they were too quiet. And only when a shadow fell on your hands, pulling out the files, you realized - he was here. Right behind you.

- Well... - a low voice sounded with a lazy grin, - We have guests. Or maybe... another little thief who decided to play with death?

You turned around slowly. He was standing in the doorway, like from the cover of an old gangster chronicle: a black shirt, a coat on his shoulders, gloves, a cigarette in his teeth. His gaze slid over you like a cold blade, and there was no fear or surprise in his eyes - only a game. He knew who you were. He knew for a long time.

- You thought I wouldn't notice? - He took a step closer. - You've been watching me for almost a month. And now you want to steal my secrets and just leave? Naive.

You didn't answer. For the first time in the entire operation, your fingers were shaking. Not from fear, but from the way he was looking. As if you hadn't come for him, but he had come for you.

He came closer, took off his glove and slowly closed the safe with his fingertips. The papers disappeared in his hand as easily as any hope of escape disappeared.

—You are beautiful he said quietly, almost indifferently, —but, unfortunately, you are not the first to decide that beauty is a shield. Here, in my house, shields do not work.

He turned without another word and walked away. But at the threshold he stopped and added without turning around:

—Go away before I change my mind. Next time I will not be lenient.