“So basically, you just want to hire us as cheap labor to do all your dirty work?” Gargamel scoffed, leaning back and throwing his head with exaggerated disbelief.

“Is this deal even worth it?” Elsa chimed in—the only one in the room who sounded remotely rational. “You could’ve just hired a professional task force instead of digging up dirt on us, staging kidnappings, and using blackmail.”

“You don’t know everything yet,” Callean replied, calm as ever. “But you’ll come to see that yes—it is worth it.”

“Then how about you finally explain this brilliant little plan of yours?” Kelly snapped before she could stop herself. The thief in her had long ago learned the value of staying in the shadows and not drawing attention—but this whole setup was shredding her instincts to pieces.

Callean cast her a short glance, then activated the interactive screen. The first slide appeared (and for a second she felt like she was back in school—a time she deeply loathed). The image was of a man, and Kelly’s face twisted at the sight of him. His sharp, sparkling eyes screamed troublemaker, and his long, pointed nose looked like it enjoyed being held high in the air. That crooked nose, paired with a scar across his cheek, also hinted at a love for violent solutions.

“This is Ace Busterrix,” a voice said—surprisingly not Callean’s, but the woman who had stood quietly at his side until now. All eyes turned to her as she stepped forward. Her appearance might have been inconspicuous, but her voice was sharp and commanding—clearly honed by years of yelling at criminals.

“Twenty-nine years old. Once well-known for his criminal activity, though nothing was ever proven. He dropped off the radar a few years ago—most likely forged new papers, new identity, and now lives somewhere under a palm tree.”

“And to answer your earlier complaints,” Zack added, “that’s one of the reasons we can’t just storm in and arrest him. No official case, no solid charges.”

Kelly was skeptical about the idea that they couldn’t find any evidence. After all, they’d found leverage on all of them.

“Last confirmed location was in the Fifth District.”

Callean clicked to the next slide. A map of Norderia filled the screen—an island shaped like an animal curled into a coil, sitting somewhere between Iceland and the Faroe Islands. The capital, and the central First District, was located on the tip of the animal’s head, while the other districts fanned out in an arc, growing rougher the farther they were from the center. The further from the capital, the more chaos and decay. And that, of course, was exactly where the worst kinds of people liked to hide.

“Because of his history, we’ve had our eye on him for a while,” the woman continued. “And about a month and a half ago, one of our cameras caught him near the Second District border. After observing him for a while, we confirmed he’s bouncing around the island, recruiting a team and preparing for a major heist.”

“And this is where things start to get complicated,” Callean interjected, reclaiming the lead. The kids—as he referred to them, even though the oldest of the bunch was twenty-four—weren’t causing trouble. They listened carefully, eager to figure out what the hell this whole thing was about. “Our sources uncovered what Busterrix is planning,” he said, switching the slide. This time, a photo of a bored-looking teenager with blond hair falling over his forehead appeared.

“Your mission is to stop Busterrix from kidnapping Leonard Ragnarson—the son of Norderia’s Prime Minister.”

~•••~

Life was clearly mocking them. Playing games, very unfunny ones.

Kelly stared at the portrait of Leonard Ragnarson—a nineteen-year-old, the reason for all of this. The blackmail, the chaos, the entire screwed-up situation… all of it, just to protect some kid. A kid whose family she had once planned to rob. She could feel her blood starting to rush in her ears again.

As she predicted, it was Gargamel who blew up first.

“Okay, so I was expecting we’d be sent to dismantle some dangerous gang of criminals, not a bunch of amateurs trying to kidnap a teenager!”

And for once, Kelly agreed with him.

“Why do you assume they’re amateurs?” Callean’s assistant asked with an angelically calm voice, tilting her head slightly.

“Who else would get involved in this kind of crap? They want to kidnap him for ransom—what a cliché.”

“You’re wrong on both counts,” Callean cut in patiently, and Gargamel fell silent as the man walked over to their desks. “None of these people”—four portraits of Busterrix’s crew appeared on the screen—“are amateurs. Their criminal records are far more extensive than yours. These aren’t street thugs robbing old ladies. They know exactly what they’re doing—and they don’t hesitate when they do it.”

“So you’re sending us on a suicide mission. Great!” the redhead clapped sarcastically. “I think I’d rather go to prison. Anyone else?” It was a rhetorical question. They all knew what would happen to them—and their loved ones—if they tried to back out. Even now, after everything they’d heard, none of them had stood up or stormed out. Not yet.

“Now for the second part,” Callean continued, returning to his place near the board and ignoring the boy’s sarcasm. “They’re not planning to kidnap him for ransom. The motive is something entirely different. Leonard Ragnarson, for the past year, has been the only person in the Ragnarson family who knows the code to the vault. And I’m sure each of you knows what I’m talking about.”

No image came up on the board, but they all knew.

The Ragnarsons had ruled over Norderia for centuries, ever since their ancestor settled the island—an island that had remained unknown to the rest of the world for a long time. Power was centralized in Brightmoore, the capital in the First District, while lesser governors managed the outlying areas. But it was always the Ragnarsons who held the reins of true authority. Over time, they had amassed an enormous fortune. Not just money—real treasure.

And in “the vault” was something more than just gold or jewels. Something that could alter the future of the entire government.

No one knew exactly what it was. Only the original Ragnarson had known—and his bones had long since turned to dust. The information about the vault’s location was passed down from generation to generation, but only to one person at a time. This time, it had gone to Leonard, gifted to him by his grandfather on his eighteenth birthday, under solemn oath to tell no one. The Ragnarsons were of Scandinavian descent, and to them, tradition was sacred—even to a teenager who had been sworn to silence. Despite his age, Leonard held the “key” to something extraordinary.

But tradition and promises meant little against the brutality of Busterrix’s crew. They would get the information one way or another, and they wouldn’t hesitate to use torture. And if Leonard broke—if he talked—then Norderia’s ruling order would collapse. And what happens when a criminal takes power?

Contrary to what some might think, other criminals wouldn’t thrive. It was like the rule that married couples should never run a business together—it always ends in a breakup or bankruptcy. Busterrix would chase his own gain, regardless of the consequences for the people. Norderia would descend into the purest form of chaos.

Kelly felt sweat bead at the back of her neck. This operation had turned into something far more tangled—and far more dangerous—than anything she’d expected. And now, a crushing weight of responsibility was pressing down on them. Responsibility they had never signed up for.

She realized she had missed a few lines of the ongoing conversation and blurted out without thinking:

“What if we fail?”

All eyes turned to her.

“You’re not giving us a choice,” she added. “We have to take on this shitty mission. But what if we mess up? What if we make a mistake—because we’re human—and they do kidnap the kid? What happens to us then? Hanging?”

“Yes,” Callean said without hesitation.

The blood froze in their veins. Even Amstaff and Gargamel went pale.

“If you fail, you’ll face the consequences from us—and you know what that means. But more importantly, you’ll also have made enemies of Busterrix and his crew. And I promise you, he will make sure you pay.”

“Which means,” Callean’s assistant jumped in, sensing the room darken, “you have to succeed.” She spread her arms like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “But hey—since you’ve made it out of so many sticky situations before, this one shouldn’t be a problem, right? And if it is… well, the cells in our prisons are actually quite cozy.” She smiled sweetly.

Callean snorted.

“Beautiful motivation, Megan.”

“Better than no motivation,” she shot back, then turned her purple eyes to the group with a smile as bright as sunshine and just as fake. “But let’s say you do fail. Don’t even think about throwing us under the bus. Because we’ll deny everything, and we’ll pin the whole thing on you. We’ll testify you were working with Busterrix. And tell me—who do you think the court will believe? A gang of criminals, or respected law enforcers?”

Her voice remained sugar-sweet. “So like it or not, you will work with us. The rewards are great—but the consequences of failure?” She smiled wider. “Even greater.”

Her words dripped with honey, but her eyes were ice-cold. Just like Callean’s. They were a perfect match.

We’ve been roped in by a pair of psychopaths, Kelly thought.

What she didn’t know yet… was that the game was only just beginning.