Chapter 3 - Little Thief

Viviane

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I have always been a little fucked up...

Well, not a little but a lot...

From a really young age, I felt it. There was this gnawing sense that something wasn't right with me.

While other kids were dreaming about fairy tales and superheroes, my mind would wander into darker, more forbidden territories. It was unsettling, but it was my reality.

I didn't understand why, and I certainly couldn't talk to anyone about it. So, I kept it buried deep inside, letting it fester and grow.

As I got older, those feelings didn't fade. If anything, they intensified. I tried to ignore them, push them down, and pretend they weren't there. But they always resurfaced, stronger and more insistent.

In everyday life, I come across as assertive, independent, a total spitfire. I don't let any man tell me what to do—I run my own show. If you see me, you'd never guess the darkness lurking beneath my surface. I wear confidence like armor, and people buy the act without question.

But that darkness is always there and it wasn't for the lack of trying.

I tried to push it away, convinced myself it was sick, twisted, wrong. I told myself I shouldn't think about it, that I needed to be normal. But the harder I fought it, the stronger it seemed to get.

Whenever I was with a guy, it was like a cruel joke. I'd go through the motions, play the part, but most of the time, I just couldn't come. It was like my body was rebelling, refusing to give in to the act.

The worst part? I became a master at faking it. I'd arch my back, moan at all the right moments, and they'd never know the difference. It was so frustrating, knowing how good I was at pretending.

I've wrestled with my demons for so long, trying to reconcile this part of myself with the person I show to the world.

It's a constant struggle, a battle that leaves me exhausted and hollow. But slowly I've come to accept that this is who I am—flawed, broken, and deeply, irrevocably fucked up.

And maybe, just maybe, that's okay.

I've come to terms with the fact that everyone has their own sexual fantasies—no matter how weird, twisted, or even downright absurd they might be. I've heard stories of people going to extremes just to get off—eating crap and all that. I might judge a little, but hey, who am I to say what's too far?

Mine didn’t seem that outrageous in comparison.

Except it was. It was deeply shameful and seriously messed up.

But as long as it would have stayed in my head and got me off, there wouldn't have been a problem.

The real danger is when those fantasies start leaking into reality.

And, bit by bit, they did.

I could see it happening, but I was powerless to stop it. It was like a primal urge, something I craved with the same intensity as the next breath. It wasn’t even a choice anymore—it was just automatic, like my body knew what it wanted and didn’t care about the consequences.

That’s why, at two in the morning, I found myself in front of my computer. I was on Erotic Nexus, a subscription-only site buried deep in the dark web. I'd pay for access myself with the money I stole.

Last night, I was flat broke and had to go on a fake date just to get a free meal. Now, thanks to my skills, I was rolling in money.

I scrolled through the website, casually exploring my options. Erotic Nexus was the dark web’s playground for fantasies—absolutely limitless. With a single click, I could arrange for someone to hunt me down in the streets, drag me into his car, and use me like a plaything, treating me like nothing more than an object.

It was all disturbingly simple.

The site had built-in safety measures: safe words and a detailed contract that both parties had to sign before settling on the specifics. You could remain anonymous or choose to reveal your identity. There were profiles for every type of person you might want—each with detailed descriptions and ratings.

You could handpick your ideal “partner,” from the look of the person to the exact way they’d fulfill your desires. It was all laid out in an almost clinical manner: preferences, boundaries, and roles, all neatly cataloged.

I could see ratings and reviews from others who’d acted out their fantasies through this site, their feedback ranging from glowing praise to warnings.

Everything was perfectly crafted to make your darkest desires a reality, all controlled by the click of a button.

"Viviane?" The small, trembling voice made me shut down my computer immediately.

I turned to see Felicity standing in the doorway of my bedroom, shifting from one foot to another. She was anxious and scared, her body language screamed that she needed comfort.

"Hey, Fliss, you had another nightmare?" I asked, softening my voice.

She nodded, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I got up from my chair and walked over to her, gently guiding her back to her room. Once we reached her bed, I helped her sit down and poured a glass of water from the nightstand.

"Here, drink this," I said, handing her the glass. She took it with a shaky hand and drank deeply.

"Was it the same one?" I asked, sitting beside her.

She nodded again, her eyes wide and scared.

"Hey, it's okay," I said, pulling her into a hug. "It's just a bad dream. It can't hurt you. I'm right here."

Felicity clung to me, her small body trembling. "It felt so real," she whispered, "Like it was happening all over again."

"I know, sweetie. Nightmares can be really scary, but remember, they’re just in your head. They don’t have any power over you in real life," I assured her, stroking her hair.

"But what if it happens again?" she asked, her voice small and frightened.

"Even if it does, you'll wake up and I'll be right here to help you through it," I promised. "You're not alone, Fliss. Not ever."

She looked up at me, her eyes still filled with fear but also a flicker of hope. I tucked her into bed, pulling the blankets up around her.

“What if someone comes for you?” she asked, her eyes wide with fear.

I leaned in, my voice cold but soft just for her, “If they do, they’d better pray for a miracle. They won’t just leave with a few bruises—they’ll be lucky to leave at all.”

Her fear melted into a hesitant smile, and I could see she felt a little safer.

“Are you doing bad jobs again?” she asked, and I shut my eyes, trying to hold it together. “I don’t want you risking yourself for me. If I die, I die. It’s okay. You’ll be free of the burden, and I’ll finally be with Mom and Dad. It’s a win-win.”

I locked eyes with her and gently cupped her face. “I’d take on every bad job in the world if it meant keeping you with me. Do you hear me? You’re not a burden; you’re my best friend and a piece of my sister—the one I miss every damn day. I won’t let you slip away like I did with her. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, Fliss.”

She shook her head, her hand trembling. She was so weak now, with both kidneys failing. If I didn’t act quickly, I’d lose her for good.

Last year, my sister and her husband were murdered in a brutal home invasion, leaving Felicity all alone. My sister had always made it clear that if anything ever happened, she wanted me to take care of her. She knew I'd step up and treat Felicity as if she were my own.

Our parents were always wrapped up in their careers, so my sister practically raised me. Now, it's my turn to return the favor and be there for her daughter. There's no way in hell I'm letting anything happen to Felicity.

Felicity saw her parents getting shot, and ever since, she’s been plagued by these awful nightmares. I wanted to get her therapy, but with the transplant for her kidney, there was never any money left over.

But now, with the money we had, we finally have enough for both the transplant and the therapy. She deserves this chance to heal, and I’m not letting anything stop me from giving it to her.

"Try to think of something nice," I suggested. "Like that beach trip we’re planning. Imagine the sound of the waves and the warmth of the sun."

She nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Okay," she whispered.

I stayed with her until her breathing evened out and I was sure she had fallen back to sleep. Before leaving, I kissed her forehead and whispered, "Sweet dreams, Fliss."

I quietly left her room, closing the door softly behind me. I lingered for a moment, listening to the silence, making sure she was truly asleep.

I turned toward my bedroom, but a loud thud from the living room made me stop dead in my tracks. My senses went into overdrive as I zeroed in on every tiny sound in the apartment.

Felicity and I were holed up in a two-bedroom place in Brooklyn—nothing fancy, just a cramped living room, a tiny kitchen, and a whole lot of windows. It wasn’t exactly fortified, which meant it was a perfect target for anyone looking to break in.

I stepped into my room and yanked open a drawer, grabbing my SIG Sauer P365. Its cold metal was a reassuring weight in my hand. From the corner of the room, I grabbed a baseball bat and made my way out, shutting the door with a firm click behind me.

I slid the SIG into the waistband of my pants, the grip tucked against my lower back, then gripped the bat tightly and headed for the living room. The space was little, no place for an intruder to slip through unnoticed.

My eyes scanned the shadows, every sense on high alert. If someone was here, they’d better start praying, because they were about to find out that stepping into my home was a one-way ticket to meeting their maker.

When I stepped into the living room, time seemed to freeze. A man lounged casually in my armchair by the window. Our eyes locked in the dim light, and he slowly flicked on the lamp beside him. The soft glow made me swallow hard.

“Hello, little thief,” he drawled, his voice dripping with a dangerous charm.

It was him—the rich bastard whose wallet I’d lifted. Alessandro Fucking Costello, according to his ID.

At first, my plan was to drain his credit and move on, but he turned out to be an even bigger target than I’d thought. All that money was too tempting, and I couldn’t resist taking everything.

I decided to play it cool, lowering the bat and tilting my head with a feigned innocence. “Thief? What exactly did I steal?”

His smile stretched slowly, almost serpentine, darkening as it grew, “My money,” he said, his voice a dark, velvety whisper.

I could feel the heat of his gaze as he let his eyes roam over me. I tilted my chin upwards, staring right back at him.

“Ten million fucking dollars?” he stated, his voice a dangerous whisper.

He leaned forward slightly, the light casting shadows that danced across his face, accentuating the predatory glint in his eyes.

I tightened my grip on the bat, “I didn’t think you’d notice. You’re rich enough.”

His smile morphed into something darker, almost sadistic, “Oh, I noticed. And while my wealth might be vast, I don’t let anyone think they can cross me and walk away unscathed. I have a reputation for a reason.”

I clenched my jaw, “How did you find me?”

He stood up, and in an instant, he was towering over me. God, the bastard was tall.

“You don’t get to play games with someone who thrives on them..." he answered, “We can do this the easy way. You transfer every penny you stole back into my accounts, and I’ll let you walk away with just a few broken bones. Or we can do it the hard way,” his eyes roamed over me with a mix of utter disgust and dark amusement. “You don’t look like you can handle the hard way.”

I let a smile curve my lips, my gaze meeting his with a challenging glint. He had no fucking idea just how much I could handle.

I tightened my grip on the bat, a confident smile spreading across my face. “Or we can do it my way, where you get nothing back and end up bleeding to death in my living room.”

With that, I swung the bat at his face. He barely had time to react, jerking back as the bat whooshed past, missing by a hair.