Steve wiped the spittle from his face, his expression surprisingly calm as he looked at the bound Stella.
There was no anger in his eyes—only a faint, mocking smile.
"How could I bear to kill you?"
Steve reached out, his fingers gently tracing the curve of Stella's exquisite cheek.
Stella jerked her head away in disgust, trying to escape his touch.
Unfortunately, as a prisoner tied to a chair, her resistance was futile. All she could do was glare at him while his fingers lingered on her skin.
Luckily, Steve wasn't a lecher.
Or rather, in Steve's hierarchy of needs, gold ranked far above women.
"Beautiful," he murmured.
"No wonder Charlie has been pining for you all these years."
After teasing her for a moment longer, Steve withdrew his hand. He picked up a napkin and meticulously wiped the trace of foundation from his fingers.
Steve was no longer panicking.
He knew Charlie Croker's weakness. Before his betrayal, Steve had been part of Charlie's crew for years. He had worked alongside Charlie and Old John.
Although he had never met Stella back then, he had heard enough. He knew Charlie was infatuated with John's daughter.
Capturing Stella had been the perfect move. It had stabilized Steve's mood, which had been spiraling ever since the loss of his two safes.
Steve was still furious at Charlie for stealing his fortune, of course. But now he had leverage.
With Stella in his hands, Steve was confident. Knowing Charlie, the man would come. He would try to save her.
And when he did, Steve would get his safes back.
Not only that, he would kill two birds with one stone. He would eliminate Charlie and the rest of the team once and for all.
With them dead, Steve wouldn't have to hide anymore. He could finally enjoy his wealth in peace.
Stella glared daggers at him. Her mind was a whirlpool of fear, anger, and confusion.
She didn't know how Steve had found her. She was certain she had never met him before her father's death or Charlie's recent approach.
She only recognized him because Charlie had shown her his photo—the face of the traitor who murdered her father.
It had been over a year since that tragedy. When Charlie found her and asked for her help to steal the gold back, Stella had agreed.
Deep down, she wanted to kill Steve herself.
Her mother had died young. Her father, John, had spent years in prison, missing most of her childhood. But despite the distance, their bond was profound.
Because of John's criminal life, Stella had been raised in foster care and by relatives. Growing up, she understood the damage theft caused. She had learned John's skills—mastering every lock and safe imaginable—but she had chosen a different path. She opened locks for the police and banks, standing on the side of the law.
Her moral compass and upbringing prevented her from becoming a killer, even for revenge. That was why she had agreed to Charlie's plan: steal the gold, break Steve's spirit.
She never expected the plan to fail before it even started.
Dammit. Where did we go wrong?
Stella masked her anxiety with rage.
She didn't know if Steve's taunts about Charlie's crush were true, nor did she care right now.
Steve walked back to his seat and picked up a walkie-talkie from the table.
"Report. Any suspicious activity on the perimeter?"
A voice crackled back instantly.
"Boss, the front gate is clear. No movement."
"Cliffside cameras are clear too."
Steve frowned slightly, glancing at Stella.
"Copy that. Stay alert."
He switched off the radio and turned back to Stella with a sneer.
"Miss Bridger, it seems your charm isn't as potent as I thought."
"It's been hours, and Charlie hasn't even realized you're missing."
Stella's expression faltered. She opened her mouth to retort, but was interrupted by a sudden sound.
Ring... Ring...
Her cell phone, which Steve had placed on the dining table earlier, began to ring.
Both of them stared at it.
Steve walked over quickly. Seeing the caller ID, his smile widened into a grin.
He waved the phone at Stella mockingly. "Sorry, I take it back."
"Miss Bridger, your admirer has finally noticed your absence."
"He's calling."
Without bothering to leave the room, Steve answered the call right in front of her.
"Hey, Stella. Where are you?"
Charlie's voice came through loud and frantic.
Steve recognized it instantly. He had worked with Charlie for years; he knew that voice anywhere.
His grin became predatory. "Hello, Charlie."
"Surprised to hear my voice?"
On the other end of the line, Charlie's voice cut off abruptly.
Heavy breathing replaced the words.
After a long pause, Charlie hissed through gritted teeth.
"Steve. Is that you?!"
"Heh."
Steve chuckled, basking in the moment. "That's right. It's me."
"Didn't see that coming, did you, Charlie?"
"You managed to steal my gold the other night. Congratulations."
"But I've found your weak spot."
"Is being alive so terrible that you had to come back?"
"I let you live. I spared you."
"All that happened was an old man who loved to lecture people died. Was that worth chasing me for a year? Worth stealing from me again?"
"You succeeded. I'll give you that."
"I still haven't figured out how you bypassed my security system and moved that much weight so quickly."
"But while I lost a battle, Charlie... you haven't won the war."
"The woman you've been pining for—Old John's daughter—is right here with me."
"I'm giving you twenty-four hours."
"Wait for my call tomorrow. Bring back what you stole, and I'll trade you for her."
"If not... you can come collect her corpse."
Steve didn't give Charlie a chance to respond.
He hung up and immediately powered off the phone.
Turning back to Stella, his face was twisted in triumphant glee.
"You said you didn't know anything?"
"It doesn't matter now."
"Tomorrow..."
"Everything you stole will be returned to me."
"Don't worry. For the sake of the gold, I won't torture you tonight."
"But after tomorrow? No promises."
Steve threw his head back and laughed maniacally.
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