I never thought this was how I would spend Christmas.

The thought forced its way into my mind as I tried to find my precarious footing on the snow-covered roof. Tenantively, I settled more and more of my weight onto the slanted surface, the snow crunching softly beneath my boots. It was a quiet sound, but it put me on edge. I glanced around, eyes straining against the dark, trying desperately to tell if anyone had been alerted to our presence.

Fuck. What was I doing?

A sudden wave of nausea washed over me. I began to swoon and lose my balance, and would have tumbled to the icy pavement three stories below had it not been for Dylan. Though he was still clinging with his entire being to the tree branch that I had just dropped from, one hand darted out reflexively and clasped by wrist, steadying me.

“Jesus, Charlie!” he hissed, his voice quivering from a mix of cold and terror. “Focus!”

The ground swam in my vision. I swallowed a scream, and the nausea disappeared just as quickly as it had come. I looked up and locked eyes with him. I couldn’t see his expression behind his mask and the hat pulled low over his forehead, but I could still make out the unmistakable glint of fear in his gaze.

“Come on down, scaredy cat,” I teased, trying to ease the tension. “Wasn’t this whole thing your idea?”

“Yes, but -” Dylan began, but quickly realized that this was not the time for an arguement, and hesitantly climbed out of the massive tree to join me on top of the townhouse.

I crept hesitantly towards the edge of the roof, reluctant to carry on with the next phase of the operation. Right now, we were just a couple of idiot 20-somethings who had climbed onto a roof on a dare. We could still get out of this. In a few minutes, we’d be breaking and entering.

I paused for a second, torn, almost resolved to climb back down the tree and leave the job undone. But I remembered the desperation on Dylan’s face when we had come to me, begging for my help, one last job to settle his debt.

One last job.

Dylan braced himself against the gutter and clasped his hand around my wrist, slowly lowering me towards the window we had chosen as our entrance point. I balanced myself on the narrow overhang, easily unlatching the lock with my well-worn pocket knife. Perhaps a little slower than I would have done it a year ago, but not bad for being out of practice.

I swung myself into the room with a practiced grace, taking note of any cameras or security measures that might still remained on despite Dylan disabling the alarm and cutting power to the property. My footsteps rang throughout the lavish room, seeming impossibly loud on the dark hardwood floor, as I ensured that we would be unobserved. Satisfied, I signalled to Dylan that it was safe for him to enter.

He swung into the room with far less ease than I had. His talents lay more in the way of gathering intel and working behind the scenes, but I had insisted on him accompanying me, and him alone. I had never liked working with people I couldn’t trust.

“That never gets any easier, does it?” Dylan whispered, letting out the breath he had been holding and pulling the mask off of his face. His eyes danced with a greedy anticipation. I didn’t like that look.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed, attempting to conceal his face once again. “Put that back on! Are you trying to get caught?”

Dylan batted my hands away with an unconcerned chuckle. “Always a professional, huh, Charlie? Relax, alright? I’m the one who disabled the security, remember?”

Unsatified, but unwilling to argue with his ego, I stopped trying to fix his mask and moved deeper into the house.

The building contained an impressive collection of art and sculptures, gems and baubles - things that we would have gladly stuffed into our bags and made off with a couple of short years ago. Tonight, however, was different. Tonight, we had been contracted to steal something specific.

We carried on with our search, my heart in my throat, each shadow on the wall a potential unexpected occupant, each creak of the stairs the sound of the police arriving. I couldn’t afford to get caught here.

“Dylan, listen,” I said quietly. “After this, I’m done, okay?”

He scoffed in obvious disbelief. “Yeah, just like last time. And the time before that. Sure.”

I stopped in front of him, blocking his path, staring him directly in the eye.

“I’m serious. After this, I’m officially retired. I’m gonna live a normal, boring life as soon as we get out of this place. Got a job lined up and everything.”

“The world’s greatest cat burglar, Charlotte ‘Phantom’ O’Driscoll, working in an office for the rest of her life? Yeah, I don’t buy it.”

“Shut up, Dylan.”

He pushed past me and continued searching. I paused for a moment, assailed by my own doubts that he had put a voice to. I tried desperately to force the memories from my mind - the past year I had spent, unbeknownst to him, persuing a college diploma and bouncing around various part time jobs, waking up each morning and missing this. Despite having paid off my debt, despite not having to do this anymore, there was nothing quite like the rush of sneaking into a place I had no business being, taking what I pleased, leaving the owners none the wiser. It was a part of me, and I hated myself for it.

A quiet intake of breath from Dylan jolted me back to the present. I moved silently to stand by his side. He had found it.

Nestled inside of a glass display case was an exquisite gemstone, about the size of my palm. It had a peculiar gleam about it, making its deep red colour evident even in the near total darkness.

Without a word passing between us, I began to work at the lock, listening intently for the sounds of the mechanism coming undone. Dylan reached for the stone as soon as the case swung open.

“This’ll definitely get me in Richards’ good books,” I heard him mutter.

My blood ran cold as I realized the truth. While I had initially found it odd that Dylan still owed Richards, the leader of the group I had been a part of since childhood, I had shrugged it off. Dylan had never been responsible with his money, so I didn’t doubt that he had blown enough to require another loan. But actively seeking Richards’ approval? It could only mean one thing.

Filled with rage, I smacked his hand away from the display case.

“What the hell, Charlie?” he hissed, barely able to stop himself from yelling.

After struggling for a few more seconds, Dylan lost his temper, striking me and sending me stumbling away from the case. Dylan closed his greedy fist around the gem in triumph.

He never saw the small light inside the case. As he pulled the gem out, an alarm began to blare. Realization flashed across his face as his ego faltered enough for him to adopt some common sense - the case had a security system linked to a second power source, something he had not thought to consider.

I steadied myself, rushing towards him, barely able to hear the sound of the shreiking alarm through my anger.

“You lied to me!” I screamed, no longer concerned about staying quiet. Our cover had already been blown. “You’re working with them!”

“Can we do this later?” Dylan shouted back, swatting away my rage-fueled blows. “We have to get out of here!”

Calming myself down enough to take in the truth of his words, I turned my back on him and raced towards the window we had entered through. I pulled myself onto the roof once more, sped along by my rush of adrenaline. Dylan climbed up after me with much difficulty, seeing as, in the rush to escape, he had not thought to put the gemstone in a pocket. With only one useful hand, he lost his grip on the roof and fell.

Purely out of reflex, I found myself handing over the edge of the roof, my hand gripping his wrist as he tried to find purchase on the icy windowsill below. I saw the relief in his eyes as I steadied him. We were still friends, after. Surely, no matter how angry I was, no matter how much suffering I had been forced to endure at the hands of the group that he was no apart of, I would always be there for him.

Right?

I pried the gem from his grasp and began to loosen my grip on his arm. His other hand came up, clawing at my wrist, desperate.

“Charlie?” he said, so softly that I couldn’t hear it over the sound of approaching sirens, a fearful look in his eye.

“Go to hell,” I spat.

He lost his footing and tumbled to the ground. I didn’t give him a second glance. He didn’t deserve it. I climbed hurriedly down the tree, landing just outside the tall fence surrounding the property, tears and cold stinging my eyes. I darted into a nearby alleyway, taking a serpentine path through the streets to avoid the police, devastated by the betrayal of my oldest friend.