His Obsession

qu

O

, and splinters of glass. I hit my head hard against the cracked tile floor, unable to tell i

luck, pro

apparently done something to piss them off today. Months of planning -literally- up in smoke, and in u

etter call

oc

the edges of my vision. Which way is up, and which way is down? It's anybody's guess. I'm tempted to close my eyes and go t

? Talk

infully dry and scratchy. I wonder if I a

ything hurts. If I manage to walk away today with a couple of fractured ribs, I'll coun

t of here," he say

e, I know we have to get the hell out of dodge. Thieves and co

the destruction. I can see Martin's foot sticking out from under a fallen support beam. Harry's unconscious on his side, hi

m here!" I rasp. "W

he snaps, kicking open the

aintest hint of pastries from the bakery about a block away. It's nighttime, but a crowd of curious and startled pedes

Lucius?" Dad hiss

with a boosted box truck to give us extra time for a hasty exit. Now that I can see

en we're royally fucked. We couldn't steal the painting -which was our whole reason for being here in the first place- more than half the crew is out for the count, I'm pre

id, royal

do?" I ask D

acket pocket. He hastily places a black flip phone in th

ery carefully,

s while on a heist to protect our identities. He quickly spouts an address which I commit to

e you and find Gabriel Lacroix. Tell him this exact phra

nitting together. "

Dad continues. "Lay low

ou're not com

thing's not right. I need

nk someone

t a move on. Don't sto

I supposed t

three stories... Right into a truck full of mattresses marked for disposal. Dad

t impecca

ead back inside the building. The violent sound of sirens wail, police cars racing past my last-m

option i

s in the middle of cracking the safe when the bomb went off. It's a miracle

f the Eiffel Tower due north-west, which means I'm in the south of Paris's 13th Arrondissement. I still have a ways to go before I reach the addres

g amidst the crowd, but that doesn't stop the paranoia from creeping in. What if someone spots me? What if some

" comes a weak,

world sees Paris as the City of Love, as some fantastical metropolis where fashion and food and fragrance reign supreme, but they neglect to realize that there's a sadder, uglier, crueler underbelly that leaves the most

. My French is basically non-existent, but I c

hat I place in her palm. It's not a lot, but it should buy her and her little one something warm to e

t and greedy and give to those who truly need it. The money we would have earned by selling the Picasso painting would have been split between

says with a g

welcome,

n she notices something. She taps

t my temple. They come away sticky with blood

ital?" she asks i

I'm oka

icture. The sight of their uniforms makes my heart leap into my throat. I hastily round the corner and press my back against the wal

l s

prised how much you can interpret through tone alone. They're looking

nd over again. "Non, I

tinue down the street. Only when they disappear ar

," I whisp

y. "Run, girl. Th

al nod, I'm off like the wind, racing down the

rently resides in the south of France near Montpellier. While it's a hard rule amongst the members of the Red Ravens to only steal from other criminals, I can't very well w

Peugeot 208. Its front and back bumpers are dented

lets. I've got a handful of differently shaped picks and tension bars of various thicknesses to choose from. I'm quick to select one of each, working on the

far less eloquent than the door, a matter of jamming my longest pick in a

r so hours. I hit the pedal and pull away from the curb. The more distance I put between myself and the scen

ith my silver necklace, turning the drop-shaped pendant over and over again between my fingers. I concentrate on my e

briel L

keep y