Chapter 1 : The Little Thief

SOFIA POV

With the information I gathered, I was sure of it now: an italian guy named Marco Ruggiero was developing weapons. Not surprising, considering he ran an underground facility that even the darkest markets feared. Men like him — powerful, ruthless, greedy — always wanted more.

I scoffed, scrolling through his profile.

"A guy like him... always hungry for power", I muttered. "Is everything prepared?", I asked the old butler.

"Yes, Miss Wilson." Harry said, bowing respectfully. His voice was thick with concern. "But... this mission is dangerous. This is the Ruggiero estate. One mistake, and they will find you within seconds."

"I know, Harry. But even if I’m caught, we have ways to erase my existence," I answered calmly. He opened his mouth to protest, but I raised a hand, silencing him.

"I’ll be careful. And if I fail... I’ll accept my fate." I smiled faintly, and he sighed in defeat.

I dressed in my assassin's outfit — all black, light armor under sleek fabrics, and hidden pockets for knives and guns. Every inch of my body covered, even my hair and face, to leave no trace behind.

 ...

The Ruggiero mansion was a fortress.

Private. Cold. Impossibly well-secured.

I couldn’t do this alone.

Luckily, I had Caroline — my best friend and loyal hacker — in my ear.

"After three, you’re set to go, babe. But you only get ten minutes," she whispered.

Ten minutes. Not a second more.

"Got it," I whispered back.

I could still hear Harry’s warning ringing in my head. But I pushed it aside. I had a mission: steal the secret weapon file. Destroy them before Marco Ruggiero unleashed chaos on the world — or my family.

"One—"

"Two—"

"Three—"

The mansion lights blinked out. Timer set. Ten minutes.

I sprinted from shadow to shadow, moving faster than any human eye could follow. I had studied every layout, every blind spot.

"Second floor," Caroline guided me.

I shot my grapple and scaled the wall silently, slipping into an open window. Inside... it smelled different.

Rich. Heavy.

Like velvet and dark spice — an intoxicating mix of money, power, and something... wilder.

A king-sized bed loomed in the darkness. Beyond it, a door slightly ajar. The study. I slipped inside without a sound.

The file sat there — right on the desk. Almost too easy. Either Marco Ruggiero was an arrogant fool, or he trusted his security more than he should. I didn’t have time to second-guess. I swiped the file, sliding it into a hidden pocket.

Five minutes left.

As I turned, something caught my eye — a custom gun on the nightstand. Black, deadly, carved with dark velvet roses and thorns. It was almost beautiful. And it called to me.

Without thinking, I reached for it—

Click!

A hidden tripwire.

Shit!

The alarm blared.

"Caroline!?" I hissed, but I already knew. There must’ve been a secondary sensor — independent from the main system.

I cut the wire with my dagger, adrenaline pounding. Sprinting for the window, I accidentally brushed against a mahogany table — the sharp edge of my dagger gouging a tiny mark into the wood. Barely visible. But a man like him would notice.

I leapt onto the window ledge— And froze.

He was there.

Marco Ruggiero.

Standing just a few meters away, shadowed in silver moonlight. Resting against the door frame. He should have raised the alarm and called the guards.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he smiled — slow and dangerous.

"How bold of you," he said in a voice like velvet and knives. "Breaking into my house, little thief."

My heart skittered once before I forced myself still.

He raked his eyes down my body, amused. "And you have good taste, amore," he added softly. "My favorite gun... and my favorite secret file."

His accent was thick, his words a low purr.

I stared at my timer.

Two seconds left.

I smirked beneath my mask.

"Well, this beautiful thief," I whispered, "is about to vanish."

And with that, the security system crashed back online — blaring alarms across the entire estate.

I dove from the window. Outside, the silent helicopter waited — pilotless, invisible to their sensors. Grabbing the rope, I swung upward, waving cheekily at him.

"Bye~," I mouthed.

And then I was gone.

Leaving only moonlight, the faint scent of danger, and a man who had just started smiling.

...

...

...

The little thief disappeared into the night sky.

"Sir! We can chase her—" the assistant started. Marco Ruggiero raised a hand, silencing him. He stared up after the helicopter — a lazy, amused smirk playing on his lips.

"There’s no need," he murmured.

He turned back into the room — eyes sharp. And then he saw it. The tiny gouge in the antique mahogany table. That's not random.

A mistake... or a message?

Marco's smirk widened, dark and full of promise.

"Oh, I'll catch you, amore", he whispered.

And with that, the hunt began.

...

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