Sylas moved like a shadow through the winding corridors of the palace, his footsteps barely audible against the cold marble floors. He knew the risks, but the payout was worth it. The royal family always had something valuable stashed away in their private rooms—jewels, ancient relics, and trinkets they thought were beyond the reach of people like him. But not tonight. Tonight, he was here for one thing only: a pendant.
It had taken him weeks to gather the information, to find the right time to slip inside unnoticed. The guards on duty were lax, and the servants were too busy to notice a shadow slipping by. His fingers itched to reach the chest that held his prize. He was close.
He passed by guards without a second glance, using the shadows to his advantage. There was no room for mistakes tonight. He'd been in worse places, dealt with more dangerous men, but the weight of power in the air here felt different. The palace wasn't just a building—it was a fortress, a symbol of everything he hated. The arrogance of the royals, their entitled air. It made his stomach twist. But none of that mattered now. Tonight, it was business.
His heart raced, not from fear but from the thrill of the job. The pendant wasn't much—nothing but a pretty piece of silver with some minor historical value. But it would be enough to stir the pot, enough to make a statement.
He reached the chamber. The door was locked, but he had a way around that. A flick of his wrist, a soft click, and it was open. He slipped inside.
The room was quiet, too quiet. He scanned it in a moment, his eyes locking on the chest in the far corner. He smiled. It was just as he had imagined.
He crossed the room with practiced steps, his movements smooth, barely making a sound. The old wooden floor creaked beneath him, but he didn't stop. He reached the chest and knelt beside it, fingers already moving to unlatch it.
The chest opened with a soft groan, and there it was. The pendant. He picked it up, the cold silver a perfect fit in his palm. A low chuckle escaped his lips. It was even better than he expected.
But just as he was about to close the chest, the sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Someone was coming.
Sylas cursed under his breath and froze. He didn't have time to hide, not in the middle of the room. His only option was to move quickly.
With a fluid motion, he dove into the shadows, pressing his back against the wall. He held his breath, barely making a sound as he watched the door creak open.
A woman stepped inside.
Sylas paused, crouched low in the shadows, watching as she entered the room. She wasn't what he expected—not some pampered noble, not some naïve royal. There was something about her that stood out, even in the dim light. The way she moved with purpose, the sharpness in her gaze. She wasn't scared.
"Who the hell are you?" Her voice was low but sharp, laced with authority she wasn't supposed to have.
Sylas didn't flinch. He didn't need to. A smirk tugged at his lips, amusement flashing through him. This was exactly the kind of challenge he enjoyed.
"Didn't think anyone actually came in here," he replied, his voice smooth, almost mocking.
He flicked his gaze to the pendant in his hand, twirling it between his fingers. The way it gleamed in the moonlight was almost ironic. It was nothing special, a royal trinket, but it was a statement. It was his now, and no one was going to stop him from taking it.
Her eyes flicked to his hand, and he could see the recognition in them, a flash of realization. She knew what it was. He could almost feel the tension in the air shift as her posture stiffened.
"That doesn't belong to you," she said, her voice hardening with that same authority she'd spoken with before.
Sylas didn't even glance at the pendant. He already knew what she was thinking. "Neither does half of this place," he said casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like he'd accepted the truth long ago.
Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he saw the flicker of something dangerous. She was no idle noble. This one had fire in her, even if she didn't know how to wield it yet.
She stepped forward, one hand resting on the dagger at her side. A move that told him she was serious. Sylas's smile widened. This was getting interesting.
"Put it back," she demanded, her voice clear with an edge of finality.
He raised an eyebrow at her. A slow, almost amused smile spread across his face as he let the pendant twirl between his fingers. "And if I don't?"
Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the dagger, the metal glinting faintly. "I'll make you," she said, the words sharp and direct.
Sylas chuckled under his breath. There it was. That spark in her eyes. She wasn't just another frightened noblewoman. No, this one had a backbone.
With a mockingly thoughtful look, he glanced down at the dagger at her side. "With that little knife of yours?" he said, the words coming out low and teasing. "Cute."
Her grip on the dagger tightened even further, her stance firming as if she was ready to strike. She didn't back down, and he respected that.
"Try me," she said, voice low but unwavering.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The tension between them was palpable, thick in the air. Sylas could feel the rush of adrenaline in his veins as he stood his ground. He didn't move. Didn't flinch. He could almost hear her pulse racing, and he could see the way her fingers flexed around the hilt of that dagger.
He knew this wasn't over. Not yet.
But for now, he stood still, watching her. Studying her.
Without another word, he turned on his heel, heading straight for the window. His movements were quick, sure. She might have had fire in her eyes, but he wasn't about to give her a chance to do anything about it. The moment his feet hit the sill, he turned back for one last look.
She stood there, the dagger still in her hand, the fire in her eyes still burning. But she wasn't going to stop him. He knew it. She knew it.
Sylas grinned, just as he threw the window open. The cool night air rushed in, and without a second thought, he launched himself into the darkness.
He hit the ground with a soft thud, his feet hitting the cobblestones as he melted into the shadows. The city was alive with noise, but Sylas was already gone, a ghost disappearing into the night.
His emerald green eyes burned with adrenaline as he sprinted away, his mind still buzzing with the encounter. She wasn't like the others. She wasn't scared.
And that made all the difference.