Allison Argent was the best of the best. She knew every trick of the trade: bypassing laser tripwires, the best way to rappel down through a skylight, and the exact type of guard that was susceptible to long eyelashes and a coy smile. She and her partner Lydia had never missed a grad, never lost a mark, and that was why watching that bastard skip away with her piece was so damn annoying.

He grinned at her, wide and white under his night vision goggles before something on his belt beeped and he took off back down the hall. "Oh no you don't," she hissed, sprinting after him. Those emeralds were hers. They spent upwards of three months planning this heist. Thousands of dollars spent on forging documents to get them an invitation to castle in the first place so they could case the place, then another month flirting with that creepy Duke Lyon to check out the security. Which, of course, was unbelievably tight, but nothing they hadn't encountered before. Cracking the uncrackable vault where all of the valuables (naturally) were was Allison's specialty, and guaranteed to put them in the history books. Now that creep beat her to it. Gritting her teeth, she pushed her legs just a bit further and tackled him.

They tumbled to the floor, the emeralds spinning out of his grip. She pushed herself up and lunged for them, but a hand closed over her ankle and she lurched back to the floor. "Ah, ah, ah," the smug bastard wagged his finger at her, picking the necklace up again. "Thieves' code. I was here first. It's my take."

"Like hell," she spat. "Do you know how long we've been planning this?"

He shrugged. "Nope. It's none of my business. But these," he jerked the necklace up out of the way when she lunged up for it. "Are mine." He grinned again. "Not that I don't mind the full body contact."

A warm heat snaked around her waist, and she was suddenly, acutely aware of how little space there was between their bodies. "Let go of me," she said quietly.

His arm tightened, and she moved to grab his wrist, snap his arm like she was trained to years ago, but he was gone. A window stood open on the other side of the hall, one that led to the cliff side of the castle. The side that Lydia had deemed "too dangerous" to use as an entry/escape route, even though it was a faster way in and out. She huffed out a sigh, flinger her arms up in the air as she turned back to the vault. The emeralds might be long gone, but there were still some gems back there she could fence.

A last flash of moonlight illuminated the door of the vault, flashing off something that wasn't there before. She stepped closer, peering at it in the gloom. A black wolf paw was stuck on the titanium alloy, a sticker she knew would be impossible to trace from its generic origins, and its familiar shape sent her heart sinking into her stomach.

"Allison?" her com crackled to life, Lydia contacting her after five minutes of radio silence like they agreed. "Are you there? Did you get the emeralds?"

"No," Allison replied, trying to get some moisture back into her throat. "The Wolf got here first."

"What do you mean there was no trace left?" he could feel the pressure building up behind his eyes that would inevitably lead to another headache brought on by his useless team.

"I mean, they left no trace," Cora repeated, shrugging. "There never has been before. Why would the Wolf slip up now?"

"Did you double check?" he asked slowly, like he was speaking with a five year old. "Or did you cut corners?"

She scoffed. "Come on, Derek. I might be a new agent, but I'm not stupid."

"We are not at home, Agent Hale," he snapped. "Here you call me 'sir', or 'Agent Hale.'"

"Considering there are two of us, I would think 'Agent Hale' might get a little confusing," she smiled sweetly, like poisoned honey. "Sir."

He heard a snort of laughter from the next room, where no doubt the rest of his team were listening in. "You're dismissed, Agent Hale." She nodded cordially, spinning on her heel to retreat into the squad room, brown ponytail swinging. He slumped back into his chair with a sigh, digging the heel of his hand into his eyes. It was how long, now? Two years? The Wolf broke onto the scene with one of the splashiest thefts the world had ever seen: snatching up a diamond-encrusted corset worth millions from the Field Museum. It was the local leos' job to nab him, until a similar heist in New York later that year was executed flawlessly and the same tag was left at both scenes: a black wolf paw, stuck on whatever case or vault the Wolf had managed to crack. Then, Derek Hale, rising star in the FBI's Major Thefts division was assigned to the case and given three agents to hunt this guy down and put him behind bars.

As one could assume by the international nature of this latest theft, it wasn't going too well.

He shoved his chair back with an irritated sigh and stalked out into the squad room. "Lahey!" he barked at the lanky blond lazing about on Cora's desk. "Report."

"Much like previous scenes, sir," he said, snapping upright. "No evidence pointing to who the Wolf may be, or how he got in and out." Derek sighed, turning to the other two members of his team, hoping they might have found something by combing over the past thefts when Isaac pointedly cleared his throat. "I wasn't finished." Frowning, Derek turned back. "There was evidence, however, of a second person at the scene," Isaac pulled a photograph out with a flourish and stuck it on the board. In the fuzzy image of the Duke's hallway security camera, it was very clear that there were not one, but two people grappling in the moonlight.

"Do we have idea who this second person is?" Derek asked, not expecting any good answers.

"She actually left less evidence than the Wolf," Erica broke in, leaning against her own desk and crossing her legs in a way that made her obscenely short skirt seem even shorter. "Not even a calling card. With multiple pieces being taken from the vault, we don't even know who took what."

"She?" Derek turned to stare at his agent.

She shrugged. "Yeah, it's obvious. Why else would he molest her like that?"

"Let me get this straight," he stepped forward until he was nose-to-nose with her. "You have known whether or not the Wolf was male or female for the duration of this assignment, and you haven't thought to share?"

"I assumed you knew," She replied, matching his gaze. "Isn't that what you muscle-bound agent types do? Because of course, no girl could pull off heists like this. Except," she strutted past him, tapping a perfect nail on the picture. "Now we have one."

"One of the pieces taken was a sixteenth century emerald necklace," Boyd added, moving around her and adding a picture of the necklace to the growing list of taken items. "I've got my contacts in the black market keeping an eye out for it. We'll get a red flag if they spot it."

"They won't." Derek turned back to his office. "He'll strip the pieces and sell the jewels individually. Tell them to keep an eye out for high quality emeralds instead." A chorus of "Yes, sir" followed him into his office, where a tall glass of water, migraine medication, and another impossible case file waited for him.

"It seems a shame to take them apart," Lydia said, admiring the huge sapphire ring on her finger. "They're so pretty."

"Lydia…" Allison warned.

The redhead sighed and tugged the ring off. "Fine. I don't see why we can't keep at least one piece though."

"How about because they're the results of an international jewel heist that happened to make national television?" Allison replied, working the tiny pliers around the prongs of the ruby choker she had managed to snag in the few minutes before the alarm system had kicked back in. The ring, the choker, and an opal bracelet that Lydia was now trying on were all she got. They weren't sixteenth century emeralds, but it was still a couple million dollars worth of jewels spread out across the table in their tiny hotel room. "Or were you too busy with your new boy toy to notice?"

"Excuse me," Lydia dropped her hand to glare at the brunette. "Aidan is a man toy, thank you very much."

Allison grinned, the pliers finally freeing one of the rubies from the choker. "Aha!" she captured the gem before it bounced onto the floor and added it to the small pile in the center of the table. "Four down, ten to go. Can you get started on the ring?"

Lydia frowned. 'I just got a manicure, though." She waggled her fingers in Allison's face. "See? Besides," she said, lounging back against the couch. "I'm the brains of this operation. You're the one that does all the heavy lifting." Allison opened her mouth. "And yes, I already contacted a smelter and flirted enough to get him to melt down these settings for free. You're welcome for that."

"What about your fence?" Allison asked. "These jewels are still hot. Is he insane enough to take them?"

Lydia shrugged. "He's insane enough to take anything. Wants to meet us tomorrow, actually."

"Tomorrow?" Allison stared down at the choker in her hands, then at the ring and bracelet. "You've got to be kidding me. I'll be up all night making that deadline."

"No you won't." Lydia leaned forward, her arms folded in the way calculated to show just the right amount of cleavage. "He just wants the rubies. That way, you can stay up all night doing more fun things. Aiden told me he has a twin."

"No thank you," Allison turned her attention back to the choker. "I'd rather not have a one night stand with your man toy."

"Not my man toy. Your man toy."

"Who happens to look exactly like your man toy. No thank you."

"Boring," Lydia flopped back against the couch again. Allison stuck her tongue out at her friend before going back to the choker.

Whether or not the fence only wanted the rubies, it was still going to be a very long night.

The first thing Allison noticed when going to meet the fence was the smell in the air. It was the same mix of garbage and urine that coated every alley of any big city in America, but somehow it seemed calculated. A perfect ratio of trash to piss that would deter any normal civilians going about their day, but not rank enough for any homeless to hide there. And of course, as soon as they entered the run-down looking building where the meet was to take place, they were transported to something akin to a plastic surgeon's office. "Oh, he's redone the place," was all Lydia said as she crossed the room to knock on the door. First three times, then twice, then five times. Allison just stared around her in mild disbelief. Sure, she had been a thief for a while and fences were old news, but this was the first one who insisted on any sort of professionalism. Lydia swore up and down that he was the best for this kind of thing, so it was only with mild apprehension that she followed her friend through the door.

The first thing she noticed was an abrupt dimming of the lights in the narrow hallway beyond the door. The second was a rather nervous looking man about her age fiddling with something at the other end of the hall. "Excuse me," Lydia said in her best you're-in-my-way voice. "What are you doing here?"

The guy made a weird sort of twitch that could have been a shrug. "Selling stuff. Isn't that what you do at a fence?" he shoved his hands into his pockets, looking at them expectantly.

Allison didn't answer, looking him over. He was skinny, probably didn't weigh very much, and he held himself like a computer geek. Not a thief. How on earth could he have gotten his hands on anything to sell to a fence like this? According to Lydia, he only dealt in material items, not information. The door behind him opened, and he whirled to greet the guy that came out. "Come on man, let's get outta here," the guy said. "We've got what we need, so-" he stopped, staring at Allison.

Something in her brain clicked, matching the jawline with the one that grinned infuriatingly at her not a week ago and waltzed out a window with her emeralds. "You!"

"Uh," he said, shrinking back against the door as she swung at him. He caught her arm just before it connected. She swung with her other arm, and he caught that one too, twisting them down behind her back and pressing her against the wall. "Please stop," he asked, sounding sincere enough. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You took my emeralds!" she growled, trying to jerk her arms free from the vice-like grip. They didn't budge.

"Actually, since he was there first, they were his," the skinny one broke in, gesturing at the guy that had her pinned. "Thieves' code and all that. I'll… I'll stop," he trailed off as Allison glared at him.

"I am sorry for taking them," the guy said, his breath warm in her ear as he held her pinned against the wall. "But I did get there first." She relaxed a bit, and his grip slackened. Quick as a snake strike, she broke his grip and whipped a foot behind her, knocking him on the ground.

"You think that's an excuse?" she asked, kneeling on his chest.

He grinned sheepishly, the expression softening his face in the dim light. "Um. Yes?"

"Allison, we're not here to flirt," Lydia reminded her, tapping her nails against wall.

"I wasn't-!" she exclaimed, jerking upright.

"Oh, so you weren't just rubbing yourself all over my buddy here," the skinny one chimed in.

"He pinned me!" Allison protested, but she could tell it was in vain. Lydia had that glint in her eye when she wasn't going to let something go easily, and the skinny guy was grinning like a demented frog. A hand fell on her shoulder, making her jump.

"It's okay," the guy said. "Let them have their fun." She eyed him warily. She hadn't even noticed him get up, which was rare for her. He stuck his hand out. "I'm Scott."

"Allison," she replied, but didn't take his hand.

"Yeah, I gathered," he smiled, gesturing at Lydia. "So, here to sell some jewels?"

"Same as you," she agreed, still wary.

His shoulders slumped a bit as his cheery façade vanished. "Look," he said, honesty written all over his face. "I really am sorry about those emeralds. If I had known you were after them, I would have taken something else. I know how much planning it took to get in there. Having all that ripped out from underneath you… It must not have been fun."

"No," she crossed her arms, "it wasn't."

"It really wasn't," Lydia butted in. "Those emeralds would have really set off my eyes, you know? Plus it made hacking the motion sensors around it a complete waste of time."

"Whoa, you hacked the motion sensors?" the skinny guy gasped. "That's crazy! I'm Stiles, by the way…" and just like that, he and Lydia were off, technobabble flowing like mud. Allison rolled her eyes, turning back to Scott to see him holding out a hand.

"Friends?" he asked, a smile blooming hesitantly on his face. "I promise I won't get in the way of any more of your jobs."

She studied him, eyes tracing over the lines of his face. It didn't seem like there was any deception hidden there, but… well, she had been wrong before. "Not friends," she said, but she shook his hand anyway. His smile grew, crinkling the edges of his eyes and she forced herself to look away. All the stories she had heard of the Wolf, and none of them ever said he was, well, attractive. When he grinned, it stretched a jawline that male models would kill for, and lit up eyes that melted like dark chocolate in the pit of her stomach. He was short for a guy, but still a few inches taller than her, and two thick, black bands circled his left bicep, stretching around the muscle.

"No way, that was you?" Stiles' voice broke into her reverie, and she thankfully turned towards the sound. "The Beacon Hills bank job. You're kidding."

"Nope," Lydia smiled like the cat that got the cream. "Took a month of planning, but it was so worth it. We're still living off that money."

"I can imagine," he stared at her with nothing short of awe on his face. "Sixteen million in one go. Scott!" he spun to face the pair of him. "We got showed up by a couple of girls!"

"I dunno about that," Allison shrugged. "The Wolf has pulled off some crazy jobs." Scott grinned at her and she tried very hard not to blush.

"That was actually mostly Stiles," he said, scratching his head. "He's the brains. I just do the heavy lifting." Lydia raised an eyebrow at Allison, who made a face in return. Then, the door behind them opened.

"Are you going to stand in my hallway all day, or are we going to deal?" a lazy voice drawled through the opening.

"Sorry Peter!" Lydia sailed through the door, winning smile on her face. "We got distracted by your other guests." Allison followed, chancing one last glance over her shoulder at the retreating pair. Her gaze was met with a pair of dark chocolate eyes, and she hurriedly looked away.

Peter Hale's center of operations was as unexpected as the rest of the place. Other fences they had worked with hid out in dingy warehouses or motels, and their deals were often made with rats or cockroaches as onlookers. By a contrast so sharp Allison could have cut herself, Peter's office was sleek and modern, with the sort of uncomfortable chairs you might find in a stockbroker's office and a desk that could have easily passed for a starship. "Miss Argent," he greeted her smoothly. "Please, sit down." She sat down next to Lydia, who was already seated as to perfectly show off both her legs and torso. "Now, I understand that you have some rubies that need selling."

"That's right," Lydia replied, matching his professional tone. "They're high quality. Eighteenth century at the latest, and Macedonian in origin. They are all pure spectral hues of red, with very few hints of any secondary tones. Worth at least five million all together."

"Indeed," he agreed, peering at the gems she spread out across his desk. "I know of a few people here in Los Angeles that would love to get their hands on some of these. I can easily get ten million for the set."

"Naturally, we get eighty percent of the sale," Lydia folded her hands in her lap as she spoke, calm and cool. Allison kept quiet. This was Lydia's specialty, not hers.

His gaze snapped up. "Fifty percent."

She laughed. "You're a fence, not a partner. If we need to, we can find another. Seventy five percent to us, twenty five to you."

"You say you can find another, and yet you came to me," his hands spread out like a corrupt businessman offering them the deal that would ruin their careers. "I can only assume that you're desperate."

"These gems are still hot," Allison broke in. "We came to you because you can sell them. Or was that stretching the truth?"

He looked at her curiously, and she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Fence or not, those were the eyes of a madman. "Brave," he laughed suddenly, loud and carefree. "I like you. Seventy to you, thirty to me."

"Done," Lydia agreed, pulling the contract she drew up out of her bag. He flipped through it, making sure the terms were the same, then placed a carefully scrawled signature at the bottom. "Pleasure doing business with you," she said sweetly, getting up. "Come on, Allison. We have shoes to buy."

It was only with great restraint that Allison resisted rolling her eyes. She followed her friend out, catching one last glance of the insane fence Peter Hale behind them. The madness stood stark on his face, a twisted darkness to match the alley outside. It seemed the office was just another mask for him to hide behind.

The only fence insane enough.

Right.

Lydia chattered on as they made their way back out of the building and into a nicer part of town. Allison only listened with half an ear, as she usually did when they were walking through a big city alone. Granted, it was normally just the two of them when they were walking, but having just pulled off a big heist, she was especially paranoid.

"… and that Scott guy was cute, wasn't he?" Lydia asked as they got on the bus.

"What?" Allison's attention snapped to her friend.

"Scott," Lydia repeated, a coy smile curling around her lips. "He's awfully cute. Or didn't you notice when you two were rolling about on the floor?"

"We were not rolling about on the floor!" Allison exclaimed, drawing the attention of several people nearby. She shot an apologetic glance around before turning back to Lydia. "We weren't!" she hissed.

The redhead shrugged. "All right. I won't tell you how he was staring at you then."

"I- wha?" Allison wavered, caught off guard. "How was he staring at me?"

"Like you were the Elizabeth Bennet to his Mr. Darcy," she replied, fixing her hair in the bus window reflection.

"Pride and Prejudice? Really?"

Lydia shrugged, unperturbed. "It fits."

Allison shook her head. "Maybe Peter isn't the only insane one," she muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."