I make quick work of the antiquated lock, the thick metal rattling open and dropping with a clunk. I leave it there and will make sure to put it back later.

That’s the trick—making it like you were never here. I smile at the ease.

And Doc said tonight would be eventful.

I shake my head and tuck my steel pick into the leather kit and slip them into my inner jacket pocket, the one closest to my heart. I doubt I love anything as much as this tool kit. Everyone and everything else has let me down. My cracking tools haven’t failed me yet.

I slide my nimble fingers over the outer frame, feeling each bump and divot, calculating.

Stuck tight.

A quick spray of oil and a slice through the thick coat of paint, and the outer hinge swings open—the contents mine for the taking.

All I need is ten seconds and it’ll be like I was never here.

It’s the easiest score this week. I’m already calculating my take. If this goes to plan, I’ll only be three jobs away from my goal and my freedom.

I’m halfway in the room when the switch flips and the light flares bright. I freeze, my eyes trained on the shotgun that’s trained on my face.

The woman’s cool blue eyes take me in, dressed in all black, my red hair swept into a bun, her finger calmly on the trigger.

“Right on time,” she says, voice clipped.

Doc was right.

Eventful indeed.

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