The air inside the hideout was thick with tension. Odi stood near the back wall, arms crossed as she watched Oliver pace furiously across the dimly lit room. The candlelight flickered against the stone walls, casting his one-armed silhouette in jagged, restless shapes.
A boy no older than fifteen knelt in the center, his face bruised and swollen. His trembling hands clutched his ribs where Oliver had struck him moments ago.
"You nearly got us all caught," Oliver spat, voice laced with venom. "Do you know what happens to loose tongues?"
The boy shook his head frantically, too terrified to speak. Oliver sneered, reaching down and grabbing him by the collar.
"They get cut out."
Odi felt the familiar churn of disgust rise in her stomach, but she masked it well. She had seen this scene play out too many times before. Oliver was ruthless, always making an example of anyone who failed him. And this boy, Jarek, had been foolish enough to get caught running his mouth about their last theft, like he was bragging. "Did he consider this job worth bragging about?" Odi thought.
"Please, Oliver," Jarek gasped. "I won't slip again. I swear."
Oliver studied him for a long moment, then shoved him backward. "Get out of my sight. If I hear so much as a whisper from you again, you won't have a tongue left to apologize with."
Jarek scrambled away, disappearing into the dark recesses of the hideout. The moment he was gone, Oliver turned to Odi, his expression shifting into something she hated even more than his anger—his twisted version of affection.
Oliver turned to her, his cold eyes narrowing. "You," he said, his voice quieter now, more calculated. "Your freedom is a debt you cannot pay."
Odi's stomach clenched, but she didn't let it show. She had heard these words before. Oliver's way of reminding her that she owed him everything—that she had no way out.
"You're the best I have," he murmured. "You are the only one who delivers without failure. And that is why you get to live, while the others…" he gestured vaguely toward where Jarek had disappeared, "…are dispensable."
Odi stared at him, impassive. She had long since learned to keep her expressions unreadable.
"Tomorrow night, the king is holding a grand royal celebration, an auction" Oliver continued, circling her like a wolf. "It's not just any event. The wealthiest nobles, the most powerful lords, they'll all be there, so it would be extremely guarded. And in the center of it all is an amulet, worth more than you can imagine."
Odi stiffened. "I'm not going."
Oliver stopped pacing. "Excuse me?"
"It's my mother's memorial." Odi's voice was tight, controlled. "I need to go to her grave."
A flicker of something—amusement? Disdain?—crossed Oliver's face. Then he laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. "And?"
Odi's fists clenched. "I go every year."
Oliver waved a dismissive hand. "Then go another day."
Rage burned under her skin. "I'm sorry, but I can't go another day. It has to be tomorrow, please."
His expression darkened. "No, no one can do this job as much as you would"
"If I go tomorrow, I wouldn't be able to concentrate, I would be engulfed in hurt. Please don't make me steal on a day my mother died."
"Because she got caught," he said, stepping closer. "She died because she got caught and if you ever let sentiment get in the way of your job, you'll end up just like her."
Odi's jaw tightened, but she said nothing. She had lost this battle before it even began.
Oliver smirked. "Good. Now listen, girl. The advantage of this job? You'll be dressed like a noblewoman. A ball gown, jewelry, everything. You'll blend in, and no one will suspect a thing. The last time, you impressed me." His gaze darkened. "Don't disappoint me now."
Odi didn't react. She had worn disguises before, but a dress? She despised the idea of playing pretend among the nobility. But she had no choice.
"You'll get to see the King face to face," Oliver added, watching her closely. "A rare opportunity."
Odi inclined her head slightly, keeping her thoughts hidden. "When do I leave?"
Oliver's grin widened. "Tomorrow night."
***
Odi stood before a cracked mirror in the candlelit old room, adjusting the bodice of the emerald- weight unfamiliar against her skin. The dress wasn't hers—it never would be. But for one night, she would play the part of someone who belonged.
"Hold still," Ben murmured, fastening the last clasp at the back of her gown. His fingers brushed against her bare skin for a fraction of a second too long before he pulled away. Odi met his gaze in the mirror. "You look…" He hesitated, then forced a small smile. "Like someone who doesn't belong here."
Odi snorted. "That's the point, isn't it?"
Ben's expression darkened slightly. "You don't have to do this."
She turned to face him fully. "You know that's not true."
He did. They both did.
His jaw clenched. "Not forever."
Something in his voice made her pause. There was a look in his eyes that she had ignored for years, or maybe just refused to acknowledge. Love. Not the familial love she felt for him—but something deeper, something unspoken.
"When you get back, I would like to join you at your mother's memorial. I promise to be quiet" Ben said with a smile.
"Thank you, Ben. I would really appreciate your company."
"It would be a privilege, Odi" Ben responded giving her deep stare.
She turned away after exhaling softly. "I'll be back before sunrise."
Ben exhaled, his fists tightening. "I'll be waiting." Ben's voice was softer now. "Be careful."
Odi gave him a smirk, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I always am careful"
As Odi stepped out into the night, the weight of the amulet heist already pressing on her shoulders. There was something about the night, it was young and heartless.
All she wanted to do was to vi
sit her mother's grave. Was it too much to ask?