[Revised]

Maybe it was a sign. Climbing in through the kitchen window would've been a struggle. Not only would she have needed to call the others for help—her height didn't play in her favour—but she would've been fully exposed to the neighbours.

She wouldn't have chosen that option, Zara decided, even if it had been available.

Orion came into view first when she turned the corner. He stood guard. Head swivelling from left to right, his gaze absorbed its surroundings. Aurora was crouched behind him, only her limbs were visible.

"Anything?" he mouthed. His balaclava had been pulled down under his chin, revealing his oval face. Many a time had Zara berated him for doing that, but his response was always the same:

Chill out, I'm Chinese. There are probably a million other guys that look like me. Their suspect list is a mile long.

That's racist, she would fling back.

Of course he would have something to say about that too.

I can't be racist towards Asians if I'm Asian.

Zara pursed her lips and shook her head. She walked around him and stationed herself on the other side of Aurora. Things were starting to run smoothly, a little too smoothly for Zara's liking. The longer they went without any problems, the greater the catastrophe at the end.

A click tore through the silence.

Zara and Orion both turned towards Aurora, who pushed her tools back into the pockets on her vest, and straightened. There wasn't a lock she couldn't pick—she was skilled in the manuality of the job—but even this had seemed a little too easy. 

This is it.

If the house had an alarm, it would go off now if they opened the patio doors.

Aurora wiggled her fingers and placed her hand on the handle. Slowly but surely, she turned it. The door inched open. Nothing happened. Aurora slid it open all the way, and tentatively placed a foot onto the hardwood floor. Then, after a brief pause, the other. Despite standing fully in the residence, the boogeyman hadn't lunged at her. The coast was clear. 

Orion fist-bumped Zara then pulled the balaclava back over his nose.

Showtime.

One by one, they slipped inside the residence, but they hadn't been inside for ten minutes that Orion already managed to collide with the furniture. He swore under his breath, arms flailing as he tripped over a coffee table.

After a mild heart attack, Zara shot him an irritated look. He gave her a thumbs-up. 

Although the large sliding patio doors allowed light to stream into the inside of the home, it was like a giant spotlight—it was best to keep to the shadows. They used the visibility to pick out objects and quickly stuff them in their bags, slithering between the furniture without making so much of a peep.

The three made the round of the house. Zara even went as far as venturing into the master bedroom upstairs, where the owners were sleeping.

In all honesty, she was the only one with balls big enough to do it. She was halfway across the landing, a grin on her face, when suddenly, from the corner of her eye she caught a light being flicked on.

Under the balaclava, her face drained of all colour. Her head snapped towards the top of the stairs. Then to Orion and Aurora in the living room. Back to the stairs. A lot of things went through her head in that moment. Her bag was half empty. She still hadn't ransacked the bathroom on the ground floor.

That was not her priority, but necessity is an ugly thing—medication sold for a lot on the black market, and Zara needed all the money she could get. She also hadn't been able to find any in the rest of the house.

She rushed back into the living room. "I still need to check the bathroom here."

Talking could be heard from the master bedroom.

Orion's hand shook as he shoved the remainder of whatever he had into his duffle bag. He zipped it shut, then swung it over a shoulder. "There's no time, we have to go."

"We could get a ton of money from pills." Zara's legs trembled underneath her. She forcefully tugged Orion's sleeve to get him to look at her.

"Do it, and you're on your own." He shrugged her off and took a step back. Aurora had already left without giving them a second glance.

Another light was flicked on, this time in the upper corridor.

She debated the possibilities. More loot, and the chance of getting caught increased by a tenfold. Escaping, unscathed.

It was a gamble.

Slow footsteps ensued.

"I'm doing it," Zara said with determination.

His eyes widened, and he took a step back. Orion really must've thought she was crazy.

"I'm out."

Orion jumped over an overturned chair and ran outside into the yard. And out of sight.

"H-hello?" A male's voice resounded against the ensuing silence.

He was gone. Zara couldn't believe it.

She was in the lion's den now. Alone.

"I have a gun! And I'm—I'm not afraid to use it!" The voice started to get closer with each second that ticked by. The person's fear of the intruder was distinct, almost tangible. He was as much scared of her as she was of him, perhaps even more-so.

Zara spun on her heels and scurried towards the bathroom.

She wasn't thinking anymore. She was acting on instinct. A sharp turn to the right, a couple more feet, and in she was in.

Hands trembling, head spinning, Zara rummaged through the cabinet over the sink, looking for any prescription drugs she could get her hands on. Zara grabbed as many as she could and chucked them in her bag, without reading the labels. There was no time.

Voices. Loud, angry voices.

Her blood froze in her veins. Zara reached out, pulled the door closed, and locked it. She breathed in and out quickly, on the verge of hyperventilating.

What am I gonna do, what am I gonna do...They're going to catch me, I'm sure of it—

She looked around for an exit, any exit. There were only two ways out: the door, or the casement window.

Of course.

Zara immediately got to work on unlatching the window. One glass swung open with ease. The other did not. The latch was jammed. She tried to force it open; her hands shook uncontrollably and the wool of the balaclava made it increasingly harder to breathe.

"Call the police, I think I know where the bastard is hiding—" A male voice. A confident-sounding male voice.

The crowbar. Swiftly, she turned and began digging into her bag for it—the stolen objects rustled around, attempting to grab the attention of the owner that yelled at his wife from beyond the bathroom door. Zara checked twice, thrice, but the crowbar was nowhere to be found. Fear rolled around inside her skull like a pinball, hitting the same question over and over: where is it?

I swear I put it in, fuck sake, I know I put it in...

Her arm froze inside a pile of statuettes as the memory hit her like a freight train. Zara had brought the crowbar in the car, she knew that with certainty, but it never actually ended up in the bag. It was probably still laying there on the backseat or maybe it was underneath it...she sucked her teeth and drew back her hand, her mind once again shifting into overdrive as it scrambled for alternatives.

Zara only had one option left: kicking the window open. Without another thought, she zipped up the bag and swung it over a shoulder, a foot taking residence on the toilet seat almost instantly. Her heart drummed in her ears as she climbed onto of the toilet seat, then throbbed more vigorously as she began kicking the window with the sole of her boot. The latch trembled but showed no sign of breaking apart. Even so, Zara kept at it, with all her strength, her eyes watering as the prospect of spending the rest of her life in prison loomed out of the fog of her thoughts. 

Three kicks.

Four.

Decisive footsteps neared the bathroom. The door handle rattled around.

"It's locked—I know you're in there! Open up or I'll shoot!" The man banged on the door repeatedly, rage emanating from him in waves.

A gunshot.

Five.

Six.

Finally, the lock gave away and the windows inched apart with a shudder. Zara exhaled, managing to jump through just as the bathroom door flew open. She made contact with the ground, but then sprung up to her feet and instinctively sprinted towards the backyard picket fence. A string of profanities followed her, along with a ka-pow as another shot was fired.

An unsuspecting garden gnome toppled back against the flower bed, a gaping hole in its ceramic face.

Zara swung the backpack over the fence.

That could've been me...

She lifted one foot onto the top rail and used the other to push herself over.

Meanwhile, the escape aroused an increasingly good deal of noise and commotion in the neighbourhood.

More and more lights began to flick on in the surrounding houses. Even a crying baby could be heard.

Come on Saffron, where are you?

In the distance, police sirens wailed.

Zara ran onto the sidewalk parallel to her drop off location, her arms wrapped around her backpack.

Had they left without her? She swallowed, her throat dry.

There's no fucking way that they left me here.

By standing on the sidewalk, Zara knew that she was being a sitting duck, but it was the only way for Saffron to find her—in the event that he hadn't left without her.

Suddenly, the headlights of a car flashed as it sped her way and Zara waved frantically to capture the driver's attention.

The vehicle screeched to a halt in front of her, and someone from the inside kicked the rear door open. Zara jogged over and flung herself—bag and all— onto the back seat, yanking the door shut behind her. "Floor it."

Saffron tightened his hands around the steering wheel and slammed his foot down onto the accelerator—the car shot off, a silver bullet slicing its way through the night.

-:-