The Billionaire's Thief: A Love Forged In Crime

Chapter 3

ANASTASIA

I hum as I step out of the hideout, my smile pulling at the corners of my mouth until my cheeks ache. The pavement under my shoes is cracked and gritty, and the air smells of damp concrete and exhaust. A few people drift past toward the door—here to settle what they owe—and they glance my way. Some look curious, others offer small smiles of their own.

“Well now. Someone’s grinning like she just won the lottery.”

I turn to find Jepoy leaning against the brick wall, and I bump my fist against his. “Jepoy! How could I not be? Three years and I’m finally free.” Joy rises in my throat until my voice rings out, and more heads turn as whispers move through the crowd like wind through grass.

He reaches out to ruffle my hair, his palm warm against my scalp. His face is bright with pride. “Good for you, kid. Time to build something new. Your last job must have gone smooth as silk.”

The word job lands heavy in the air between us. My smile softens, and I look away for a second. Kirill’s face comes to me clear as day—his grin sharp enough to cut glass, eyes dark and knowing as they held mine. I blink hard and shake my head, like I’m clearing dust from my eyes.

“Smoothest one yet. They wanted a single item, so I took a little extra cash too. Why not make it worth the trouble?” I wink, and he laughs deep in his chest. The tightness between us eases.

Then his face sobers. He grips my shoulders, his hands firm enough to ground me. “Tasia, now you’re out you need to go far. Being free from this place doesn’t mean you’re safe. We don’t know what’s coming—or if the people we’ve crossed will come looking to even the score.”

I swallow, the lump in my throat sharp and hard. Kirill’s smile flashes again, unbidden. I haven’t been trying to think of him, but he lives in some quiet corner of my mind now. I laugh, the sound a little too loud, and clap my hands together.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve made a career out of staying out of sight.” I tap my chest with my finger, and he chuckles. He gives my shoulder one last pat before heading inside. I look back at the hideout—its door worn and splintered from use—then turn away and don’t look again.

Three years. I’ve walked through those doors hundreds of times, each step carrying the weight of what I’ve done to survive. Three years of checking over my shoulder, of knowing every face I pass could be someone I’ve wronged. But that life ends today.

I walk into the late afternoon sun, and the sky bleeds orange and pink as the sun sinks low. Dusk creeps across the buildings, painting brick walls gold and shadow. My rented room is close enough to take my time, so I let my feet carry me slow while my mind drifts back to all I’ve endured. Every lie, every risk—all to pay off my ex’s gambling debts.

My hand finds the envelope in my pocket, thick with cash and heavy against my thigh. My jaw tightens until my teeth ache. “Rot in hell, you bastard.” The words are low and sharp, and my brow furrows like I’m staring down an enemy. People glance at me as they pass, but I don’t care. Nothing can touch the relief that spreads through my chest like warm water.

—

“Thank you so much for putting up with me these past five months, Ms. Mila.” I hand her the final rent payment, and her fingers—rough from years of washing clothes and cooking—close around the envelope. She beams at me, warmth shining from her eyes.

“Nonsense, sweetheart. You’re like a daughter to me.” She waves her hand, and her face crinkles with kindness. The air in her small house smells of cinnamon and soap.

I heft my duffel bag from the floor—just the things I can’t leave behind. I’d packed the moment I walked through my own door, then rushed over to settle things before I left.

“I know I was a handful. Always late with rent, always asking for more time.” I scratch the back of my neck, heat rising in my cheeks, but she just laughs and reaches up to ruffle my hair the way Kuya Jepoy did. I lean into the touch without thinking.

“Where will you go now?”

“I’m not sure yet. Probably head out to the provinces.” It’s not a lie—not really.

We sit at her kitchen table and talk, lost in stories until laughter makes our sides ache. Darkness falls outside the window before we notice, and by the time I make it to the bus terminal the clock reads nearly eight o’clock.

“Ugh. This line is moving like molasses.” I sigh, shifting my bag on my shoulder as I wait. The terminal is loud with chatter and the hum of overhead lights, and the air smells of diesel and burnt coffee.

When I finally board the bus, I find a seat by the window and lean my head against the glass. It’s cold against my skin, and the engine vibrates through the frame into my bones. The truth is, I’ve known where I’m going for months. I’ve mapped every road, picked out a town small enough to disappear in. The provinces are big and sprawling, full of places no one looks twice.

I’ll change my name, cut my hair short enough to be unrecognizable, build myself from scratch. A new identity, so no one can find me—not even men like Kirill.

The road ahead stretches long and dark, but I know it’s worth every mile. Three years of struggle have to count for something. Surely it’s my turn now—to have a life that’s quiet and simple, far from all this noise and crime.

—

The bus ride took more than ten hours before we rolled into the province I’d chosen for my new life. Every mile left me more cramped; the seats were hard as wood, and my back ached from sitting still so long. The air inside reeked of diesel and stale sweat, and by the end I was ready to walk the rest of the way.

I set my duffel bag on the dusty red earth and stretched, my shoulders and hips popping in protest. “Damn. Travel really wears you out.” I yawned, my voice thick and slow with sleep. “Good thing the place I’m renting isn’t far.”

I worked the kinks out of my neck, then pulled out the new phone I’d bought in the city. It was touchscreen—sleek and cool against my palm, nothing like the beat-up flip phone I’d used for years. It felt foreign in my hand, like a promise of something different.

I’d sent a message to the landlord while I was still on the road, letting her know I’d be arriving soon. I had a rough map in my head, and tricycles were everywhere here. I wasn’t worried about getting lost.

“Hey! Hold up a second!” I called out when I spotted an empty tricycle rattling past. The driver pulled over with a grin wide enough to show his teeth, and the engine sputtered as he cut the power.

“Hi there, beautiful. Where you headed?” He waggled his eyebrows, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

“Barangay Inhobol. How much do you charge?”

He winked, leaning against the handlebars. “One fifty pesos for you, sweetheart.”

I laughed, short and sharp. “Come on now. I know that barangay is just down the road. I might dress nice but I’m not made of money.”

Really. Did he think he could fool me that easily? I’d checked the distance twice before I left the terminal.

“Alright, alright. I was just joking.” He waved a hand and laughed, and I climbed into the side car without another word.

Thankfully, the bus terminal was in the same town as my new home. A quick ride and I’d be there—no trains or transfers needed.

We rode for twenty minutes, the wind whipping my hair across my face and dust coating my arms. Then the driver pulled up to a narrow street lined with small houses.

“Here we are. Lucky for you I’m feeling generous today.” I handed him the one hundred fifty pesos, grinning as he took it. He beamed and thanked me over and over before pointing down the street.

I walked the rest of the way, my bag heavy on my shoulder. When I reached the house, a woman stood at the door with a smile so broad her lips looked pulled tight.

Something felt off. Her eyes darted past me to the street, then back to my face. I pushed the thought aside—maybe she was just nervous about meeting new people.

“Hi. I’m the one who messaged you yesterday about the room—”

“Yes! Yes, of course! Welcome, welcome.” She pressed a key into my hand, warm from her palm and cool where the metal touched my skin. “Second floor, room nine. All ready for you.”

I frowned, pulling my hand back slightly. “Wait. You seem a little hurried.” She’d practically thrust the key at me, like she wanted me gone already.

She paused, swiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, and scratched at her neck. Her smile looked forced now, stretched thin.

“Sorry. I just got a little excited is all.”

I smiled to put her at ease and asked her to show me the way up the stairs.

I pushed the strange feeling down and followed her. The stairs creaked under our weight, and the hallway smelled of wood polish and damp air. Three doors down, and I stood before room nine.

I took a slow breath, my hand hovering over the doorknob. The wood was worn smooth from years of use, and my smile was so wide it made my cheeks ache. Opening this door would mean I was finally in control of my own life.

I unlocked the latch and swung the door open, my voice loud in the quiet hallway.

“I’m finally free—”

The words died in my throat the second I saw him on the bed.

He sat cross-legged, leaning back on his palms with his shoulders relaxed like he belonged there. His smirk was slow and deliberate, and it sent a chill straight through me.

I froze where I stood, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my ears. Shock and terror mixed in my chest until my vision blurred at the edges.

“W-What are you doing here?!” I screamed, and my duffel bag slipped from my grasp to hit the floor with a dull thud that echoed in the silent room.

One corner of his mouth stayed lifted, like he was enjoying every second of my panic.

“Ahh… what was it you wrote for me?” He pulled out a small piece of paper, unfolding it slowly, and held it up to the light. My own handwriting stared back at me.

It was the note I’d left on his bedside table the night before.

My tongue felt thick and heavy, stuck to the roof of my mouth. I couldn’t speak—I was too busy trying to understand how he could be here, in this tiny town I’d picked just to disappear. But one thought cut through the fog in my head.

I’d never be free now. Not with Kirill Yevgenyevich Ivanov sitting in my new room.

“‘Thanks for the money?’” He read the words exactly as I’d written them, then tossed the paper to the floor. It fluttered down to rest at my feet.

“Sadly, I don’t give anything for free, Ei… or should I say, Anastasia Farrales?”

Goosebumps pricked across my skin as he said my full name. Kuya Jepoy’s warning echoed in my head, clear and sharp as glass.

We don’t know what tomorrow will bring—or if the people we’ve crossed will come looking for us, Tasia.

I didn’t think. I just spun around to run. But two men in dark suits stood in the doorway, their broad shoulders filling every inch of space.

“W-Wait—” My words were cut off as an arm wrapped tight around my waist, and a cloth was pressed over my mouth and nose. It smelled sweet like almonds and something sharp, and the world started to spin.

“Hush now… sleep for a little while. The real show hasn’t started yet, Tasia.”

Kirill’s voice was low and calm, the last thing I heard before darkness washed over me completely.