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"I thought you worked here." Zyra whispered back."

"I don't."

She followed him, stepping over a loose rock, breath shallow in her chest.

They both heard somebody yell "stop." They both froze for a split second—then bolted.

Thorne grabbed her arm and pulled her forward. “We need to split up!” he said. “I’ll go left. You go right. That’s the way out. Now get out of here!”

Zyra didn’t slow. “I’m not leaving without the diamonds,” she hissed back, “or more information on the heist. For all I know, you could be setting me up to get caught!”

Thorne glanced back, eyes wild and filled with pain. “Zyra, this is not the time.”

They skidded around a corner, the sound of boots thudding on gravel behind them.

"I thought this was the way out?" Zyra looked around frantically, all she saw was a tall chain-link fence and no exit in sight.

“It is,” Thorne said, already grabbing the fence. “We have to climb it.”

"What! I can't  climb that!"

He shot her a pained look over his shoulder. “How the hell did you get in, then?”

" Under a truck."

Thorne didn’t wait—he hauled himself halfway up the fence in two quick movements.

Voices echoed behind them, closer now. Flashlights cut through the dark.

“Hey!” Zyra called after him, panicked. “What am I supposed to do?”

He glanced down, teeth gritted. “Find a truck.”

“You bastard!” she hissed, grabbing the fence as Thorne neared the top. She scrambled up after him, already out of breath. She was struggling—bad. Pants caught. Hands slipping. Catching her royal ass, as she liked to say. This is what I get for skipping leg day for three years.

Above, Thorne paused, glanced down, and sighed. He reached back and grabbed her wrist. “Come on,” he muttered, pulling her up.

He lands with a thud and a low, guttural groan on the other side, and she follows right behind him. With no time to recover—they both took off running.

“Where are we going?” Zyra panted behind him, nearly tripping on a root.

“You mean where am I going,” Thorne shot back, not slowing. “This is where we part. You’re not coming with me.” His skin was pale, almost sallow, like the pain had leached the life out of him.

“But what about the diamonds? The heist?” Zyra called after him, breathless.

He took a left turn. "I changed my mind. I don't  think you're a good idea."

They ran in silence for another fifteen minutes, Thornes pace slowing the only sounds their pounding footsteps and the distant echoes of searchers. When they finally reached a blacked-out car tucked behind a cluster of trees, Thorne yanked open the driver’s door weakly and  slid into the driver’s seat.

She didn’t hesitate—threw open the passenger door and jumped in.

Thorne stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “Look, Zyra,” he said, wheezing, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “This? Us? It’s not going to work.”

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off, his voice was lower now, almost tired. “I do need an extra person for the job. And yeah, you seemed ideal—fast, smart, ruthless when you need to be.”

A pause. His eyes didn’t leave the windshield.

“But the diamonds? As payment? That’s not guaranteed. Nothing about this job is.” He turned to her now, face hard and pale, voice flat and worn down. “And right now… you seem like more trouble than you’re worth."

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