The Thieves and the Heart

Adina didn't understand why Kamin made her fingertips tingle or her breath hitch before she spoke. It was a mystery, and an odd one at that. Although it didn’t bother her physically, it did deter her from reaching their target in the allotted time and often proved a distraction.

Today was no different. Kamin was on watch duty as always, blowing the smoke of his cigarette against the brisk winter winds, his leather-studded jacket hugging snugly against his body. His stance was casual, leaning against the brick wall like he didn’t have a care in the world, but Adina knew better. Every muscle in his body was attuned to the chaos around them, each passerby assessed, every movement calculated.

Adina walked past him into the tumultuous afternoon Manhattan crowd. The streets were a cacophony of honking horns, impatient shouts, and the muffled hum of overlapping conversations. She wasn’t sure if Kamin’s amber eyes had grown brighter or if the sunlight just hit them at a different angle today as they met hers. A spark, quick and fleeting, ignited between them before he dropped his cigarette and stomped it out with his foot. The signal.

A beat passed before she remembered what to do: find the target, acquire the object, meet in the cafe with the client. Her heart skipped a beat, her body nearly betraying her with hesitation. Focus, Adina. This was routine. This was just another job. She pushed the tingling in her fingertips out of her mind.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, calculating every movement, every trajectory. That’s when she saw him—a burly man in a plaid suit jacket, a briefcase tangled in his white knuckles. He was three feet away from their agreed-upon destination, his shoulders tense, his eyes flicking over the faces around him. Paranoid, just like they were warned.

Adina tightened her scarf and moved quickly, weaving through the mass of bodies until she matched his pace, then stumbled, falling across his path. Her knee hit the pavement, pain radiating up her leg as she made sure the blood packet burst, crimson soaking through her jeans.

The crowd parted like a river around a boulder as the burly man leaned down, his face etched with concern. “My goodness. Are you alright, miss?” he muttered, getting on one knee to help her up, placing the briefcase on the floor without a second thought.

Adina winced heavily, sucking air through her teeth. “Ah, sorry. I’m such a klutz!” She looked up, her eyes wide and vulnerable, channeling every ounce of false innocence she could muster.

The man fished a handkerchief from his coat pocket and handed it to her, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re bleeding. Do you need an ambulance?”

“No! No, I’m fine. Just... embarrassed.” Her voice wavered just enough to sell the performance. As his attention remained on her knee, Kamin moved behind him, quick and silent, his fingers closing around the briefcase handle. His strong legs carried him briskly, his black leather jacket disappearing into the crowd.

The man helped her up, his eyes scanning her face. She forced a smile, her fingers trembling as she handed back the blood-stained handkerchief. “Thanks... I’ll be fine.” Before he could ask more questions, she limped away, each step purposeful yet fragile, designed to throw off any suspicion.

Later on, at the cafe, Kamin was already seated at the corner booth, his posture relaxed, his fingers drumming a rhythm on the briefcase. Adina slid into the seat across from him, wincing as her knee throbbed. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. “What was that? You almost missed the target,” he asked, his tone sharp but laced with something she couldn’t quite place.

“Nothing. I was just a bit distracted,” she replied, taking a long sip of her chai latte. It tasted too sweet, but she needed something to soothe the tightness in her throat.

Kamin’s chest expanded, his eyes zoning in on Adina as if she were the target. It made her spine tingle, her pulse quicken.

“Distractions are dangerous. I can’t risk your safety, A.” His voice was low, a stark contrast to the hum of lively chatter and clinking dishes. His finger tapped an impromptu staccato on the wooden table, each tap echoing in her chest. Something warm and slightly confusing lingered in his gaze, causing Adina’s heart rate to quicken.

She dodged his gaze, her fingers tightening around the ceramic mug. “I’m not perfect, K,” she muttered, crossing her fingers on the table.

Kamin’s eyes softened at this. She had once killed two security guards with a hairpin, yet she looked soft and delicate in the dim light of the room. Something rose in Kamin’s throat, something he wasn’t sure he could control.

“How long do you think you’ll keep phishing for Glark?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“I don’t know. I have nothing. I have no one. This job... it gives me something. Someone.” Heat blossomed profusely on Adina’s cheeks, and she immediately regretted the honesty in her words.

Kamin brushed his hand over Adina’s small fingers. He wished he could take them in his, but it was against the rules, and breaking the rules meant death. His touch lingered just a moment longer than necessary.

“I know it’s not allowed,” Kamin started, his voice low and rough, “but when they let us retire from this... Would you... maybe... want to be with me?”

Adina’s eyes shone like summer moons, her tender, supple lips curving upwards, and Kamin’s chest felt full. But their moment of triumph was cut short as the burly man appeared in the window along with four other men in sunglasses and tightly pressed suits. He pointed into the window, his brows furrowed in anger, spittle shooting from his lips.

Kamin turned to Adina. A moment became a pause. He meshed his fingers through Adina’s, his other hand hooking through the briefcase’s handle. The four men smashed through the cafe doors, the bell ringing like jingles on a sleigh.

Kamin and Adina jumped across the counter, knocking over a tray of cookies. They burst through the kitchen doors, past two pastry chefs and a busy man typing at a desk, then skipped through the back exit.

They ran, feet pounding against the pavement, hearts racing in tandem. The wind was sharp and cold, cutting through their jackets, but neither slowed down. Adina’s heart beat rapidly—perhaps it was the adrenaline, perhaps it was the chase, or perhaps it was the fact that Kamin’s hand was in hers and his question still hung on her heart as the sound of crashing plates and low shouting crescendoed behind them like church bells.

His fingers tightened around hers as they rounded the corner, diving into another alleyway. “I’ve got you,” Kamin whispered, his voice firm, steady.

She squeezed his hand back, her chest heaving. “I know.”

They didn’t stop running.