Chapter 1: Three Minutes Before Capture

The funny thing about being a con artist is that people think it is glamorous. They picture expensive dresses, luxury hotels, private jets, and stacks of cash. Sometimes they are right.

What they do not picture is running through a crowded street market at eleven o'clock at night. They do not picture three police cars chasing you while your former partner tries to get you arrested.

Trust me. That is the part that is not glamorous at all.

I shoved my way through a group of tourists and nearly knocked over a fruit stand. Oranges rolled across the wet pavement behind me. Someone shouted angrily, but I did not stop. Flashing blue lights reflected off the shop windows, and the sound of sirens echoed loudly through the streets.

My lungs burned. My legs felt heavy and painful, like they were filled with broken glass. But fear is a powerful motivator, and the thought of prison terrified me far more than being tired.

"Move!" I yelled.

A man stepped right into my path. I dodged him at the last second and turned sharply into a narrow alley.

The sounds of the city faded instantly. Now there was only darkness, cold brick walls, and overflowing dumpsters. The sirens sounded distant, and my own heartbeat pounded loudly inside my head.

This was not how tonight was supposed to end.

Three hours earlier, I was sitting in the penthouse suite of one of the most expensive hotels in the city. There was champagne, loud music, and millionaires everywhere. It was the perfect place to find a target.

Tonight, my target was Victor Langston. He was a technology investor with more money than common sense. He was my favorite kind of victim. He spent most of the evening bragging about his wealth while trying to impress a woman he thought was a wealthy European art dealer.

That woman was me. Or, at least, it was the version of me I had created for the night. My fake name was Sophia Laurent. I had a French accent, a fake passport, fake business cards, and a fake life. It was my usual routine. Victor never suspected a thing. Men like him rarely did.

By midnight, the con was a success. I had convinced him to transfer several million dollars into what he believed was an exclusive investment opportunity. The money landed exactly where I wanted it. Everything was perfect.

Until Marcus disappeared.

My stomach tightened as I thought about him. Marcus Reed was my partner, my friend, and the closest thing I had ever had to family. We had been running cons together for nearly four years. That was long enough to trust each other, and long enough to make a terrible mistake. Trust is dangerous in our line of work. Trust gets people killed, or arrested.

I reached the end of the alley and froze.

Two police officers stepped into view, blocking my path. One came from the left, and one came from the right. They had their guns drawn and pointed straight at me.

"DON'T MOVE!" one shouted.

My pulse exploded with panic. I spun around to run back the way I came, but more officers were entering the alley behind me. There were no exits and no escape.

For the first time in years, I felt true, blinding panic. This was it. The game was over. Every fake name, every stolen fortune, and every lie I had ever told was finished.

I slowly raised my hands into the air. One officer moved closer to me, while another reached into his belt for handcuffs.

Then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. The sound seemed impossibly loud in the quiet alley. The officers heard it too.

I pulled it out and stared at the screen. It said Unknown Number. I almost ignored it, but something stopped me. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was desperation, or maybe it was just stupidity.

I answered it. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end was calm. Too calm. He did not sound worried at all that I was seconds away from being arrested.

"Miss Vasquez," the voice said.

I immediately went cold. Almost nobody in the world knew my real name.

"Who is this?" I asked.

The officer stepped closer to me. "Drop the phone right now!"

The voice on the phone ignored the officer completely. "You have exactly three minutes before those officers place you in handcuffs."

My mouth went completely dry. "How do you know that?"

"Because I arranged it," the man replied.

Every muscle in my body tightened. The officers were getting closer, and I was one minute closer to losing my freedom forever.

"What do you want?" I whispered into the phone.

"I want to save you."

I let out a shaky, nervous laugh. "That is usually what people say right before they ruin your life."

There was a brief silence on the line. Then the man said, "Look to your left."

I frowned, but I slowly turned my head. Halfway down the dark alley, there was a metal delivery door. I had run right past it earlier without noticing.

The voice spoke again. "Open it."

The officers were only a few steps away from me now. "Why?" I asked.

"Because on the other side of that door is your only way out."

The nearest officer reached out his hand to grab my arm. I made a sudden, reckless decision. It was the kind of dangerous choice that had defined my entire life.

I ran.

The officers shouted in surprise. Someone lunged forward and grabbed my jacket. The fabric tore loudly, but I broke free. I reached the metal door, yanked the handle with all my strength, and stumbled forward.

The door opened.

A dark corridor stretched out inside the building. Waiting just inside the doorway was a man wearing a black suit. He was expressionless and completely motionless, like he had been expecting me to arrive. Which he probably had.

"Hurry," the man in the suit said.

I did not hesitate. I stepped through the doorway, and the heavy metal door slammed shut behind me. A second later, I heard the police officers pounding loudly on the outside, but the door stayed locked.

The man in the suit turned and began walking away. "Follow me."

My heart raced as I stared at his back. "Who are you?"

"You will get answers soon," he replied.

"That is not a real answer."

"No," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "But it is the only one you are getting right now."

We walked through a confusing maze of hallways before finally reaching a large underground parking garage. A black SUV waited near the exit with its engine running. The man in the suit walked over and opened the rear door for me.

I looked inside the vehicle and froze.

A smartphone sat completely alone on the black leather seat. Its screen blazed to life, showing an incoming call. It was the exact same unknown number.

The man in the suit gestured toward the inside of the car. "Get in."

Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run away. This was insane, dangerous, and possibly a trap. But the police were still searching for me outside, and whoever was controlling this escape clearly had a lot of power and money.

Slowly, I climbed into the back seat of the SUV. The door closed firmly behind me.

The phone continued to ring. I reached out, picked it up, and held it to my ear.

The mysterious voice returned. "Good evening, Miss Vasquez."

I swallowed hard, trying to stay calm. "What do you want from me?"

The voice laughed softly. It was not a kind or warm sound. It sounded like a predator watching an animal caught in a trap.

"Your freedom," the voice said. There was a long pause. "All you have to do is destroy a billionaire."

The line went dead and silent. And for the first time that night, I was far more afraid than I had been when the police surrounded me in the alley.