The Thief V [BL]

-Blake West:

I couldn't stop crying as I stumbled down the hallway, my body trembling, my mind spinning too fast to make sense of anything. My breath kept hitching, broken sobs forcing their way out of my throat, sharp and ragged. I barely noticed the walls of the mansion or the cold marble under my bare feet. Everything blurred together—pain, shame, confusion.

I just wanted to disappear. I rounded the corner toward my room too fast and nearly collided with Elena.

She gasped the moment she saw me. "Sweetheart! Oh my god… what happened?"

Her warm, familiar voice only made my tears come harder. I couldn't answer. Couldn't explain. I just stood there, dripping and shaking, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Did you fall into the pool again?" she asked, concern tightening her voice as she hurried toward me, placing steady hands on my shoulders. I shook my head, but I still couldn't speak. It hurt too much.

She didn't push me. Instead, she gently guided me toward the bedroom. She sat me down on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of me, waiting patiently like she used to when I was a child after I'd skinned my knees.

"Blake," she said softly, brushing the wet hair from my forehead, "tell me what happened."

I forced myself to speak, my voice cracking. "Chris… and Killian… they sprayed me. With the sprinklers. In the garden. On purpose. And… they laughed at me."

Her eyes softened in understanding as she let out a slow sigh. She reached out and took my hand carefully, her thumb brushing over the back of it like she wanted to pull the pain straight out of me.

"Oh, honey," she whispered, her voice breaking a little. "I'm so sorry."

"I-I thought Zade… I thought he…" I couldn't even finish the sentence.

Elena sat beside me now, pulling me gently into her arms, letting me lean against her like I was six years old again. I let her hold me. I needed someone. Anyone.

"I should've warned you," she said after a moment, her voice low, almost ashamed. "Chris and Kill… they're sick, Blake. They pull these cruel little games on anyone who's new to this house."

She pulled back slightly, enough for me to look at her. My throat felt raw.

"What do you mean?"

Elena sighed heavily. "There was this maid once. Young girl. Sweet. She'd only been here for a week. Chris and Killian told her they were sorry for making a mess in the kitchen and gave her a box. Said it was a peace offering."

My stomach twisted.

"What… what was in the box?" I asked, already afraid to know.

"Insects. Frogs." Elena shook her head bitterly. "They knew she was terrified of them."

I stared at her, horrified. "What happened to her?"

"She quit by the end of the week. She couldn't handle it. I don't blame her."

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry.

Elena squeezed my hand. "I know it hurts, sweetheart. But please… don't blame yourself. Their cruelty has nothing to do with you."

I nodded weakly. But inside, I felt emptier than ever.

"Come on," she said softly. "Let's get you cleaned up. A warm shower will help."

I let her lead me toward the bathroom. I stood under the hot water until the chill in my bones faded. Until the shaking stopped. Until I could almost believe none of this had happened.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in the soft towel she'd left me, I found my clothes neatly folded on the bed—a soft hoodie, loose sweatpants, and socks. Comfort clothes. Familiar. Safe.

I changed slowly, moving like my body wasn't mine anymore. Then I sat back on the edge of the bed, staring down at my hands.

I felt hollow.

Betrayed.

Stupid.

Zade's face kept flashing in my mind. That soft voice. His hands on my cheeks, telling me I had beautiful eyes.

Lies.

The sound of my heart breaking was silent.

That's when I heard it.

A knock at the door.

I wiped my face quickly, swallowing hard. My voice came out barely audible. "Come in…"

But no one came.

Frowning, I stood, confused now more than hurt. I crossed the quiet bedroom and opened the door slowly, peeking out into the hallway.

Empty.

Then I looked down.

My breath caught in my throat.

There, resting carefully on the floor, was a small bouquet of wildflowers. Fresh. Bright. Simple.

And next to it, a wooden box. Dark mahogany. Polished. Heavy-looking. Wrapped neatly in a silver ribbon.

I hesitated. My heart thudded harder. Slowly, I crouched, reaching out to examine it closer.

My name was written on a folded note card, tucked neatly under the ribbon.

Hands shaking, I picked up the envelope and pulled out the letter inside.

The Letter:

Blake,

I don't know how to say this right, but… I'm sorry.

For the sprinklers. For Chris. For Killian. For not stopping them. For not realizing how badly they hurt you until it was too late.

I swear to you on everything I have—I didn't plan any of that. I would never do that to you.

I wanted to give you something real.

If you forgive me… if you're willing to let me explain…

Look out your balcony. I'm waiting for you.

Zade.

I read the letter three times.

And yet, Elena's story clawed its way back into my head.

A maid. A box. Insects. Frogs. Humiliation.

I looked at the wooden box beside the flowers and suddenly felt cold all over again.

My heart pounded harder.

Was this a trick? Was this all a setup? Was he standing down there right now, laughing at me? Waiting for me to open the box and scream, just like that poor maid?

Panic crushed me. I recoiled from the box, disgusted at myself for believing even for a second that Zade could be different.

Furious now, I grabbed the letter and bolted toward the balcony, pushing the doors open so hard they banged against the frame.

Zade was there.

Standing in the courtyard below, hands stuffed in his pockets, shifting nervously on his feet.

The moment he saw me, his face lit up.

"Blake!" His voice cracked. "You saw the letter! I—did you open it?"

I felt something inside me snap.

"If you think you can trick me twice, Zade Collins, you're wrong!" My voice shook with anger.

He frowned, confused. "Blake… what?"

"I hate you!" I screamed, my throat raw.

And before I could stop myself, before I could even think, I reached down, grabbed the heavy wooden box from where I'd dropped it…

And I threw it.

Hard.

It sailed down through the air, spinning, the silver ribbon unraveling mid-flight.

Zade looked up just in time.

The box struck him directly in the forehead.

The sickening thunk echoed louder than I expected.

His eyes widened.

Then he dropped.

Flat.

Like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Zade?"

He didn't move.

"Oh my god… oh my god… what the hell have I done?" I whispered, frozen in place, gripping the balcony railing so tight my knuckles turned bone white.

I stared down at his motionless body in horror.

This couldn't be real.

This wasn't happening.

"Zade?!"

Silence.

My heart thundered in my ears.

I watched him lie there in the courtyard, completely still.

And for the first time in my life, I genuinely believed I had just killed someone.

And worse?

I had killed the boy I loved.