Thalyn stared at the cracked screen of her phone, heart pounding in sync with the blinking cursor. She’d spent weeks chasing down every detail, hacking through layers of security with Kael’s help, and now she had the coordinates—the final piece of the puzzle for the Hope Diamond heist.
Her thumb hovered over the send button as she typed a quick message to Kael:
“Coordinates confirmed. Secondary vault. Timing’s tight. Be ready.”
Attached were the blueprints, security schedules, and every scrap of intel she’d gathered.
She exhaled sharply and tapped Send.
The phone chimed—a normal, harmless sound.
But instead of Kael’s name lighting up the screen, a group chat title blinked back at her: “Thieves I Know (Definitely Not Trusted).”
A cold wave crashed through her.
She’d sent the message to every world-class thief she knew. Which, given her reputation, was a lot.
“No, no, no,” she whispered, panic rising.
She frantically swiped and tapped, hunting for the “unsend” button. But it was too late.
Her phone erupted.
“Well, well, looks like someone’s throwing a party.”
“Hope you’re ready for the chaos, darling.”
“You just made this way more interesting, Vayne.”
“Road trip to New York, anyone?”
“Did she really just do that?”
“I’m clearing my schedule.”
Then, shining in smug arrogance:
“Thanks for the invite. See you in New York, sweetheart.” — Jax Solen.
Thalyn’s fingers trembled as she stared at the screen.
She shut the phone slowly, like she was sealing away a ticking time bomb.
Kael was going to kill her.
Or worse—he was going to sigh in that disappointed big brother voice and say, “Wow. That’s... impressively dumb, even for you.”
She closed her eyes.
She was going to New York.
But not just to steal the Hope Diamond.
Because she’d just invited the whole underworld.
Including the one who called her “sweetheart.”
Thalyn’s fingers flew over the cracked screen, hammering out a desperate text to Kael:
“I screwed up. BIG TIME. Sent the coordinates to every thief I know. Including Jax. Expect chaos. Hack everything you can. Now.”
She hit send before second-guessing herself and shoved the phone into her pocket. Heart racing, she vaulted off the rooftop and sprinted down the fire escape, adrenaline turning her steps into lightning bolts.
Every second counted. The thieves would be mobilizing fast — and she had to beat them to New York.
The city streets blurred beneath her, a chaotic mess of honking cars and neon lights, but she didn’t slow. A cab screeched past; she waved it down without hesitation.
“Airport. Now.” Her voice was sharp, no room for questions.
The driver didn’t need convincing. The meter started ticking, but Thalyn barely noticed. Her mind was a whirlwind of strategies, risks, and the one sinking thought that maybe, just maybe, this was the worst screw-up of her career.
Because now, it wasn’t just a heist.
It was a race.
She threw open the door of the cab the second it stopped, and practically threw a couple of bills at the driver, “Keep the change.”
She rushed through security and boarded the plane at the last second.
Thalyn settled into the plush leather of the first-class cabin, the city lights fading beneath the clouds outside. The soft hum of the engine was a sharp contrast to the chaos she’d left behind.
She pulled out her phone again, fingers twitching with restless energy, eyes flicking to the messages she’d been trying to ignore. Every ping was a reminder that the whole city’s thieves knew exactly where she was headed—and that Jax Solen, in all his infuriating charm, was probably closer than she liked to admit.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice sliding smoothly through the quiet hum of the cabin
“Well, well, sweetheart,” he purred. “Look who just invited the entire city’s thieves to the party.”
Thalyn’s head snapped up. There he was. Jax Solen. Draped across the seat beside her like he owned the place—slick black designer suit, gelled black hair, that trademark cocky grin, and black eyes sparkling with mischief.
She stared at him, trying to pretend she wasn’t doing the exact opposite of cool—heart doing backflips, hands itching to deck him, and a rising tide of irritation.
He grinned, that maddeningly smug curl of his lips hitting full volume.
Thalyn’s jaw clenched.
“Shut up.” she snapped, elbowing him sharply in the ribs.
He chuckled, unfazed.
“Oh, come on. You can’t deny it’s hilarious. I mean, who else could manage a screw-up this spectacular?”
She shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass and bit back the urge to roll her eyes.
“Of course you’re here,” she muttered under her breath.
Jax’s smirk deepened. “I’d say the same to you, darling.”
Thalyn’s heart did a backflip. She shoved it down with a scowl.
Jax’s grin widened, dangerously charming.
“Stay away from the diamond, Jax,” she warned, voice sharp as a blade. “Because if you so much as breathe near it, I will make your life hell.”
He leaned back, hands behind his head, all casual confidence.
“Oh, I wasn’t planning on going solo,” he said smoothly. “But here’s a thought — what if we teamed up? Split the haul, cover each other’s backs? Two heads, one priceless diamond, zero chance of either of us getting caught.”
Thalyn’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Why would I trust you?”
Jax shrugged, that infuriating smirk never fading. “Because no one else can match my skills—or yours. And because you know I’m not the type to lose.”
She crossed her arms, not buying it. “Sounds like a trap. You always want something. What’s the catch?”
He chuckled softly. “Catch? Maybe. But in this game, the best plays are made with uneasy alliances. Besides, if I wanted to double-cross you, I wouldn’t waste time proposing a partnership.”
Thalyn didn’t look around, but she knew. She could feel it.
Five pairs of eyes. Watching. Listening.
Eli Mercado, in his scuffed jacket and magician’s grin, twirling a silver coin between his fingers like he was waiting for someone to bet their life on it.
Rhea Langford, disguised as a bored businesswoman in heels and red lipstick, sipping champagne like she hadn’t once stolen a diamond mid-auction while wearing that same shade.
Nico Vass, buried in a jazz magazine, fedora covering his eyes, tapping out rhythms on his tray table—safecracking fingers always moving.
Carmen Doyle, legs crossed, reading a fashion magazine upside down. Her real ID probably lived in a vault three names ago.
And Julian Cross. Quiet. Clean. Too clean. Like the man was born in a tailored suit and a sealed alibi. He glanced at her and his lips twitched into a rare smirk.
Every one of them was here for the same reason.
The Hope Diamond.
And every one of them had just seen Jax Solen slide into the seat beside her like he’d bought it with charm alone.
“I’m not doing this with you,” Thalyn muttered under her breath.
Jax kept his voice low, eyes glinting with amusement. “Why not? You afraid I’ll outshine you?”
“I’m afraid you’ll get me arrested,” she snapped.
He leaned a little closer, casually blocking her from the others’ view. “Sweetheart, if I was gonna sell you out, I’d have done it years ago. But right now?” His smile turned razor-sharp. “They’re all watching us. Every one of them is thinking the same thing: ‘If Solen and Vayne are working together… do I even have a chance?’”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
“You’re playing the long con.”
“I’m surviving the short one,” he said. “If we’re allies, they keep their distance. And who knows? Maybe we actually pull it off. Get the diamond. Split the cash. Go our separate ways.”
“You’ve never gone your separate way from anything in your life.”
He winked. “You’ll make an exception for me.”
She didn’t answer.
Didn’t need to.
Because five of the best thieves in the world were watching her next move.
And she hated how much sense he was making.
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t move. Just kept her eyes locked on the phone in her lap like it held nuclear launch codes.
Jax, of course, took her silence as an invitation to keep talking.
“So? Is that a yes? A tentative yes? A furious, gritted-teeth, ‘fine-we’ll-work-together-but-I-hope-you-step-on-a-Lego’ yes?”
Her fingers tightened on the edge of her phone!
“Fine,” she muttered. “Alliance. Temporary.”
He gave a mock gasp. “Sweetheart. You do care.”
“Shut up.”
He leaned in, grinning. “So what’s the plan? Vault, cameras, lasers, what are we working with?”
She turned to him with a smile that was all teeth and no warmth.
“I’m not saying a word on this flight.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t trust me?”
She tilted her head slightly, letting her voice drop to a level only he could hear.
“I trust you about as far as I can throw Carmen Doyle in six-inch stilettos. And you know at least four of the five thieves in this cabin can read lips, Jax. Doesn’t matter how much I mutter. One correctly deciphered sentence and they’re halfway to the vault.”
Jax blinked. “That’s... horrifying.”
Thalyn leaned back and closed her eyes. “Welcome to first class, sweetheart.”
She sank deeper into her seat, crossing her arms as Jax relaxed beside her like he’d won something. Her jaw ached from clenching it too hard.
She could feel the others watching. Still.
Jax followed her gaze lazily and grinned. “They're only here because of you, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that,” she muttered.
“Too late, darling. It’s the brand now.”
She didn’t respond.
Across the aisle, Eli Mercado caught her eye. The former street magician tipped an invisible hat, winked, and blew her a kiss.
Thalyn’s glare could’ve shattered reinforced glass.
Rhea, seated just behind him, smirked over her champagne flute and murmured something to Carmen Doyle, who laughed behind perfectly manicured fingers.
Julian Cross hadn’t looked up from his laptop. But she knew him. He was already recalculating the odds, adjusting for every new variable—including her, and Jax.
And Nico Vass? Nico gave her a smooth nod and raised his whiskey glass like they were all just here for brunch.
This was her nightmare. A flirtatious, world-class, painfully stylish nightmare.
She leaned toward Jax.
“This is your fault.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You hit send.”
“You started the name thing.”
He gave her his most innocent smile. “And look how much joy it brings people.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” he said. “You used to have a crush on me.”
She kicked his ankle under the seat.
Jax just smiled wider.
Thalyn watched Eli Mercado twirl a coin between his fingers, still smirking from across the aisle like this was all a game. And it was. To them.
The Code made sure of it.
There were rules in this world. Not the legal kind—those were made to be broken—but the thieves’ kind. Ancient. Unspoken. Enforced with surgical precision and brutal creativity.
Rule One: You never turn another thief over to the law.
Rule Two: If another thief gets there first, it’s theirs. No whining. No takebacks. No grudges.
Which was exactly why every single one of these pickpocketing, vault-cracking, smooth-talking (fine, kind of hot) psychos felt perfectly justified flying to New York to steal her diamond.
Well. The museum’s diamond.
Technically.
Jax leaned in, voice low, maddeningly amused. “Still wrapping your head around the code, sweetheart?”
“I’m wondering how hard I can hit you before the flight attendants notice.”
He smiled like she’d just flirted. “You’d miss me.”
She gritted her teeth.
She wasn’t going to lose the diamond. Not to Jax. Not to any of them.
But if she did?
She’d have no one to blame but herself.
And The Code.
The wheels hit the tarmac with a jolt, and the cabin filled with the soft rustle of seatbelts, murmurs, and five world-class thieves preparing to casually race each other to baggage claim.
Thalyn didn’t rush. That would’ve been obvious.
Instead, she stood with the smooth grace of someone who always flies first class, retrieved her sleek duffel from the overhead bin, and casually flipped her hair as she turned—only to find Carmen Doyle already walking down the aisle in five-inch heels like the floor was her catwalk.
Nico Vass tipped his fedora as he followed, jazz humming from his earbuds. Julian Cross checked his perfectly timed itinerary and tucked it into his coat. Rhea Langford pretended not to notice any of them as she reapplied lipstick that definitely wasn’t the same shade as when they boarded. And Eli Mercado winked at Thalyn as he passed, still flipping that silver coin again like he was trying to hypnotize her.
“New York’s got excellent security,” Jax said beside her, strolling like they were on vacation. “Think they’ll recognize any of us?”
“If we’re lucky, you’ll be the one they arrest,” she muttered, walking just a little faster.
“Aw. You do care.”
They stepped into the terminal—glass, steel, and cold air—and it was immediately clear: the race had begun.
Nobody ran. That would’ve been unprofessional.
But every thief was walking with purpose.
Thalyn adjusted her bag on her shoulder, lips tight. She wasn’t going to lose this job. She couldn’t. Because there were only three outcomes in a heist like this:
1. You steal the prize.
2. Someone else does, and you lose with dignity.
3. Or you try to cheat the Code—and the whole world makes you pay.
And Thalyn Vayne did not lose.
The glass doors of JFK slid open, and cold New York air hit Thalyn like karma.
She stopped dead.
They were everywhere. And she recognized almost all of them on sight.
The sheer volume of black coats, leather gloves, smug expressions, and suspiciously stylish boots confirmed it:
Every thief in that group chat–which by the way, was a LOT of thieves–had accepted the unintentional open invitation.
And they all knew exactly who had sent it.
Rhea Langford strolled past in a sharp trench coat, gave Thalyn a once-over, and offered a faint, amused nod like a queen acknowledging her jester.
Eli Mercado walked backward for several steps just so he could maintain eye contact while dramatically tipping a wide-brimmed hat that, she was positive, he hadn’t been wearing before.
Nico Vass raised his coffee cup in a mock toast as he leaned against a pillar, whistling a tune that suspiciously sounded like the Mission: Impossible theme.
Julian Cross didn’t even look at her—he just held up his phone with the group chat open and slowly, slowly, gave her a thumbs-up.
Carmen Doyle passed by with a wheeled suitcase and a thousand-dollar smirk. “Darling,” she purred, “next time just hire a skywriter. Less subtle, same effect.”
Thalyn’s soul left her body.
Jax stepped up beside her, sipping a smoothie he’d definitely bought just to be annoying. “Well, well,” he said brightly, “I didn’t realize you were throwing a convention.”
She didn’t reply. She couldn’t. Her brain was in meltdown mode.
He leaned in, voice dripping with amusement. “Thieves of the World, Assemble. Sponsored by: Your Eternal Mistake.”
She groaned and covered her face.
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Oh, but it is,” Jax said, thoroughly enjoying himself. “This is history, Thalyn. We’ll be talking about this for years. I’m thinking of getting jackets made.”
One last thief walked past—a red-haired woman she vaguely recognized—and paused just long enough to tip an invisible hat, wink, and mutter, “Appreciate the invite, darling.”
Then she vanished into the crowd.
Thalyn dropped her hands, face flat. “I hate all of you.”
Jax grinned. “Aww, sweetheart. Don’t be like that. You brought us all together. You’re basically... the heart of this operation.”
She considered murder. Briefly. Then sighed and kept walking.
The hotel room was fancy, unnecessarily fancy. Thalyn dropped her suitcase on a bed and turned to Jax.
“Okay, here’s the plan……”
1:08 a.m.
Metropolitan Museum of Art
The vent was narrow, grimy, and definitely not designed for human smugglers.
Thalyn crawled through first, elbows tucked, breathing steady. Jax followed behind with entirely too many snarky comments and zero concept of personal space.
“I swear,” she hissed, “if you say one more thing about how great your view is—”
“I wasn’t going to. But now that you’ve mentioned it—”
“Jax.”
“Ma’am.”
Silence.
Kael’s voice buzzed in her earpiece. “You’re nearly there. Take the next right. Watch your head—there’s a loose panel.”
Thalyn adjusted her glasses. Through the tiny AR lens, Kael could see what she saw, track her progress, and—ideally—keep her from tripping any invisible death beams.
They dropped silently into the corridor behind the west exhibit hall. Security patrols were still on schedule. Two guards, rotating every six minutes.
Kael whispered, “Camera blind spot ten steps ahead. Hug the wall. Now.”
They moved. Jax was graceful, quiet as a shadow. Thalyn had done this a thousand times, but still—every nerve buzzed. This was the Hope Diamond. And worse: she wasn’t alone.
One last turn. The vault room.
Kael’s voice came calm and low: “Password entered. Stand by—disabling alarm. Lasers dropping in three…”
A flicker of red shimmered in Thalyn’s glasses—then vanished.
“…Two. One. You’re clear.”
The box hissed open with a mechanical click. The Hope Diamond stared back, cold and gleaming like a grudge.
Thalyn reached for it—
Clang.
Footsteps.
Too close.
Her blood froze.
Kael’s voice sharpened. “Patrol incoming. He’s off schedule.”
She slapped the box shut and flattened against the pedestal’s side. Jax slipped into the shadows near the wall, already drawing something from his coat—smoke capsule, emergency flash, who knew.
The guard stepped into the hallway.
He paused.
Turned.
Stepped into the room.
No.
Thalyn held her breath. One hand was curled around her bag. The other found her gun. Jax tensed like a spring.
The guard scanned the room, flashlight beam sliding just inches from Jax’s hiding place.
And then—Kael, sweet chaotic angel that he was—hit a button.
A tiny noise echoed from a different corridor. A subtle thunk.
The guard turned his head.
Then his whole body.
And walked away.
Thalyn exhaled so slowly she saw stars.
“You’re welcome.” Kael said, smugness oozing from his voice.
Jax exhaled and said, “Remind me to buy that kid an island.”
They climbed into the vent and vanished into the ceiling, the diamond safe in Thalyn’s bag.
Almost too easy.
Almost.
The vent exit was just ahead.
Thalyn dropped lightly into the loading corridor behind the museum, diamond still tucked tight against her chest. Jax followed a second later, landing with an infuriatingly graceful roll.
“We’re out,” he said.
Kael’s voice buzzed in her ear. “Not yet. You’ve got twenty meters to the side gate. I looped the camera feed for thirty seconds. Go.”
They moved fast and silent.
Fifteen meters.
Ten.
Five—
“Leaving so soon?”
A voice—smooth, amused, way too close.
They spun around.
Julian Cross. Leaning against the far wall, arms folded like he’d been waiting there all night. His suit looked like it cost more than Thalyn’s apartment. His smirk was criminal.
Jax swore. “How?”
Julian shrugged. “I followed you. Watched the guards, read Kael’s signal habits, guessed the exit. Nice job with the noise diversion, by the way.”
Thalyn’s hand twitched toward her pocket. “Don’t even think about it, Cross.”
“I’m not here to fight,” he said. “That’d be unprofessional.”
“Then what do you want?”
Julian pushed off the wall, walked toward them—calm, confident.
“I want you to know you were good. Fast. Clean. Professional.”
He stopped two steps away.
“And I want you to remember—next time, it won’t be so easy.”
Then he stepped aside, smiled, and gestured to the gate like a doorman at a five-star hotel.
“Ladies first.”
Thalyn didn’t move for three seconds. Then she brushed past, heart pounding. Jax followed, tension thick in his shoulders.
The moment the gate shut behind them, Kael said, “Who was that?”
“Trouble,” Thalyn muttered.
“Hot trouble,” Jax added. “Very hot trouble.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. “Let’s move.”
3:17 a.m.
Undisclosed alley. One security camera. Zero witnesses. Two criminals.
Thalyn stood beside Jax in the shadows of a crumbling fire escape, the Hope Diamond now sealed in a black case duct-taped shut for exactly zero dramatic flair.
The buyer stood across from them. Nervous. Tall. Wrinkled blazer and shaky hands—probably a front for someone much more dangerous. Or much less patient.
He inspected the case, snapped it open, and stared at the stone like it had whispered all his secrets.
“It’s real,” he said.
Jax raised an eyebrow. “Obviously.”
The buyer nodded, typed something into his phone. “Funds are wired.”
Thalyn checked her screen.
Nothing.
Refresh.
Still nothing.
Her spine went cold. “Kael?”
“Working on it,” Kael muttered through her earpiece. “Hang on—somebody’s bouncing the payment through six dummy accounts. I’m trying to block it.”
“Who?” she hissed.
“I don’t know. But the routing is weird. It smells like Julian’s code. Or Nico’s.”
“Or it could be both," Jax added, eyes narrowing.
The buyer frowned. “Is there a problem?”
Thalyn smiled. It was not a nice smile. “Not at all.”
One breath. Two.
Kael’s voice clicked in: “Got it. Funds secured. Re-routed to our vault. You’re golden.”
The alert popped up on her screen. Transfer complete.
She exhaled so hard her lungs twitched.
The buyer vanished a heartbeat later, disappearing into the night like all wealthy men who think they’re untouchable.
Jax leaned against the wall, hands on his knees, laughing. “Oh man. Oh man. We almost got burned.”
“We did get burned,” Thalyn muttered. “Kael just slapped the fire out of our hands.”
Kael, chewing something crunchy in her ear, replied, “I’m gonna sleep for four days now.”
“You better not,” Jax said. “We still have to launder this.”
“Okay, five.”
Thalyn stared at the night sky, half-delirious. “I’m never stealing anything again.”
“Liar,” Kael and Jax said in perfect unison.
10:03 a.m.
Thalyn’s hideout. Technically hers. Emotionally Kael’s. Decor by “we’ll clean it after the next job.”
Stacks of cash sat neatly on the table.
The Hope Diamond? Gone. Buyer confirmed. Payment locked. Life expectancy extended.
Thalyn had changed into pajama pants and a sweatshirt that said Professional Mistake Maker. She was mid-sip of sparkling water when someone knocked on the door.
Jax raised an eyebrow. “Expecting anyone?”
“Nope.”
Kael peeked out the window, then swore under his breath. “Oh no.”
“Oh no what?”
“Julian brought champagne.”
The door burst open.
Julian Cross entered like a diplomat, a model, and a supervillain had a baby. Carmen Doyle followed in heels and diamonds. Rhea strolled in behind her, dragging Eli by the collar. Nico was last, holding a jazz record and a look of vague disapproval.
“We came to celebrate,” Julian said.
“And to kill you,” Carmen added brightly.
Eli handed Thalyn a card. It said, Congrats, you disaster. Inside: Seriously, never do that again.
Rhea flopped onto the couch. “You know the group chat exploded, right? They wish you would have also sent your plan along with literally every single other piece of information about the diamond."
“We trended,” Nico added. “#ThiefCon.”
Jax poured champagne like he owned the place. “To Thalyn,” he said, raising a glass. “World’s most dangerous accidental event planner.”
Thalyn groaned. “I hate you.”
Kael, still chewing a granola bar, clinked glasses with her anyway.
Julian stepped close, voice soft. “Next time, I won’t just watch.”
She smiled sweetly. “Next time, I won’t miss.”
Everyone laughed.
The champagne popped.
The glasses glittered in the light.
And somewhere, in the deepest corners of the black-market internet...
…the countdown to the next job had already begun.
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