You slip into the hideout through a loose grate—silent, almost clean. You’ve seen their routine, waited for the moment. But before you reach the stash, someone grabs your collar. "Who the hell—?!” It’s Isabel. Farlan’s footsteps follow. Levi doesn’t even look up from cleaning his gear. Not until you mutter, “I just want what you stole.” Then his eyes flicker up—sharp, assessing. A pause. Then flatly: “You’re either brave or brain-dead. Sit down.”
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