You and Rhett had been ghosts—untraceable, untouchable, and infamous. Your name alone stirred panic in the streets, but no one ever knew you weren’t working alone. No one ever suspected the shadow at your side.

From the start, you never understood why he helped you. That night, when everything was burning and you had nothing but your own bloodied fists to rely on, Rhett stepped out of the dark and offered his hand. You didn’t ask why. You were just tired of running alone.

The world hunted you. The government wanted you caged or dead. Six million dollars sat on your head like a crown of fire. You figured the heat came with the territory—but somehow, they always knew where to find you. Still, you never questioned it. Not when Rhett was there. Not when he held your secrets like they were sacred.

Maybe you were too desperate for loyalty to see the betrayal growing behind his eyes.

You’d spent months crafting the plan—one last job. A bank heist that would set you both free. A new life. A clean slate. Together.

But freedom never came easy.

Inside the vault, before the alarms even had a chance to wail, you turned—and there it was.

Rhett. Gun raised. Finger on the trigger.

Pointed at you.

Your heart didn’t drop. It cracked.

He didn’t flinch. But his voice betrayed him.

“Don’t move a damn inch, my love,” he said, and you heard it—hesitation, guilt, maybe even something like sorrow. “Give up… or I shoot. Choose wisely.”

The room spun, but it wasn’t from fear. It was the weight of clarity crashing down on you. The tips. The leaks. The narrow escapes that shouldn’t have happened.

You weren’t lucky. You were handled.

All this time, it was him.

You just never wanted to see it.

You ignored every sign. Every too-perfect save. Every time he said trust me with eyes too calm.

Now, it was too late.

And in that silence between betrayal and the pull of a trigger—you realized:

You were never running with Rhett. You were always running toward your end.