Chapter One

It's an easy heist, it's an easy heist. I kept repeating it like a mantra over and over in my head. It was really an easy heist. It was a mansion with essentially no security whatsoever and the only person who was ever there enough to worry about was the butler and he was in bed my ten every night. It was an easy heist and that's it had been given to me as my first solo heist, well…solo if you count the fact I had backup standing by in case something went wrong, but I was going to be the only one in the mansion, not guards watching for people coming in or going out, no one monitoring activity in the rest of the house..nothing…just me.

Surprisingly the back door was unlocked. Seriously? Who leaves their doors unlocked in a house like this? Well, obviously these people did.

I walked through the kitchen and down the hallway. At the end of the hallway where it becomes the foyer in front of the huge double front doors, on the left hand wall was a Monet, just hanging there, with no security, just begging to be…well…stolen, for lack of a better term.

I was almost done, I had the painting halfway out of the frame when the foyer suddenly flooded with light.

"What are you doing?" The voice behind me sounded surprisingly calm considering whoever it was had just caught me stealing. I turned toward the speaker and found myself staring at a young man who was probably my age although he looked older, standing there in his pajamas (Superman? Really?) with incredibly messed up hair.

Well obviously I couldn't exactly con my way out of this one, it was the middle of the night, I'd been working in the dark and he'd caught me with the Monet halfway out of the frame.

"What does it look like?"

"I don't know. It almost looks like you're stealing my Monet, but you wouldn't do that, you're too young. There's no way you could possibly know what that's worth." Wrong. I thought. I know exactly what it's worth, which is exactly why I'm stealing it! Wait a second…

"Your Monet?"

"Yes. My Monet. The only reason that painting is here, the only reason my father even still owns this house is because of me."

"And you are?"

"W.W. Hale the fifth. You?"

"You seriously expect me to tell you my name?"

"If you don't I'll just have to call the cops."

"Wait a second, you're going to call the cops because I won't tell you my name? Not because I'm stealing your Monet?"

"Well, I'll tell the cops it's because you're stealing my Monet, but you'll know the real reason is because you wouldn't tell me your name." He smirked and then frowned, "How old are you anyway? Twelve?"

"Close." I smirked.

"Let's start over." He held out his hand toward me, "I'm Hale. I'm fourteen." I didn't shake the extended hand.

"Kat. Thirteen."

"Cat? Like the animal?"

"No. Kat with a k. It's my nickname."

"What's Kat short for?"

"What do the w's stand for?"

"Not telling."

"There's your answer then."

"You're good."

"Thank you."

"So now what happens? I've caught you stealing my Monet, we've had this pleasant little exchange, what happens next?"

All of a sudden the lights went out as quickly as they'd come on.

"Nothing happens next." A male voice said from the darkness.

"Uncle Eddie." I sighed. I should have known when I didn't come back in fifteen minutes they'd come for me.

"Who?" Hale asked.

"Come Katarina." Uncle Eddie grabbed my hand and started pulling me through the darkness.

I don't know how he did it, but some how Hale found my other hand and grabbed on, remaining silent, and followed us out of his house and into the night.