Wish Fulfilled
This was, undeniably, the most profoundly comfortable sleep Stella Bridger had ever experienced in her entire life.
She genuinely didn't know exactly how long she had been unconscious, buried deeply beneath the thin, slightly scratchy blankets of the desolate motel room.
She only vaguely remembered the chaotic, adrenaline-fueled blur of the previous night.
After being miraculously, violently rescued from the terrifying clutches of Steve's mercenaries by the imposing young man who confidently claimed to be an independent thief, the mysterious stranger had taken her far away from the danger.
He had securely rented a quiet, untraceable room in this roadside motel, ensuring their tracks were completely covered.
They had talked a great deal during those quiet, tense hours before dawn.
The rugged young man had not only frankly and calmly told Stella his true identity and his highly calculated reasons for saving her life, but he had also displayed an incredible, unexpected gentleness regarding her traumatized predicament.
He had noticed her profound exhaustion, her filthy state, and her starving body.
He had not only actively gone out into the dark city to buy Stella a simple but incredibly hot, delicious dinner to soothe her violently rumbling stomach, but he had also flawlessly prepared completely new, clean clothes for her to comfortably change into after a long, scalding shower.
That quiet night, although they had securely stayed completely alone in the exact same isolated, cramped hotel room, absolutely nothing inappropriate had happened.
Stella had rested deeply and safely on the only double bed, completely physically exhausted.
Meanwhile, the highly capable, lethal party who had just slaughtered armed men to free her voluntarily chose the small, uncomfortable, faded sofa in the hotel living room.
He had slept quietly and vigilantly there for the entire night, serving as an unyielding, protective guard dog.
When she finally, groggily woke up, the bright morning light was filtering softly through the cheap, plastic blinds, casting long, dusty shadows across the faded carpet. She blinked her blue eyes against the glare and clearly saw that he was absolutely already completely awake.
Sitting in the small living room area, Arthur was heavily, deeply engrossed in studying a thick, highly technical book entirely focused on the complex mechanics of high-end locks.
The morning sun illuminated his rugged, handsome profile, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the intense, calculating focus in his dark eyes as his calloused fingers slowly turned the pages.
"You're awake," Arthur's low, smooth voice broke the quiet morning silence, his tone vibrating with a calm, grounding authority.
Apparently flawlessly sensing her intense, lingering gaze, Stella quickly noticed that the imposing young man looked up smoothly from his heavy book and smiled a warm, genuinely disarming smile directly at her.
"Mm," Stella murmured, her voice still thick and raspy with sleep.
Stella actively, physically resisted the sudden, biological urge to stretch her sore, bruised limbs under the warm covers.
She absolutely wouldn't foolishly allow herself to fall in love at first sight with a highly dangerous, lethal young man she had absolutely only just violently met under the most traumatic circumstances imaginable.
But exactly because she had organically developed a certain, profound fondness and massive, undeniable respect for Arthur after witnessing his flawless, heroic actions, she behaved incredibly restrainedly and politely, pulling the blanket slightly higher up her chest.
"Breakfast is completely ready," Arthur stated, gesturing with one large hand toward the corner of the room.
"Would you actively like to wash up first, or comfortably have your breakfast directly?"
Stella was undeniably a little surprised by the meticulous, thoughtful preparation. She quickly followed his pointing finger with her tired gaze.
She clearly saw that on the small, scratched wooden table exactly where the heavy CRT television was securely placed, there was indeed a hot, aromatic breakfast waiting for her.
"Thank you so much," Stella said, genuine warmth flooding her chest, a soft, grateful smile touching her cracked lips.
Stella absolutely hadn't expected this highly lethal, terrifyingly efficient young man to be such an incredibly considerate, gentle person underneath his cold, tactical exterior.
She thanked him deeply once again, got smoothly out of the warm bed, and then instinctively, frantically reached her slender hand for her cell phone by the soft pillow.
Her heart rate spiked as she desperately wanted to check the exact time and date to ground herself in reality.
After Stella's panicked hand met completely empty air on the mattress, her highly intelligent mind violently remembered her missing device.
It had been aggressively, violently taken from her pockets completely by Steve's heavily armed subordinates immediately after she was abducted off the asphalt.
"Oh no," Stella gasped, her blue eyes widening in sudden, terrifying panic, all the peaceful morning calm evaporating in a single instant.
"I clearly remember Steve arrogantly told me he called Charlie and the others. He aggressively told them to desperately prepare the massive gold bricks yesterday to violently exchange for my life."
Stella's breathing grew shallow and rapid as the horrifying tactical implications set in.
"I absolutely need to contact them as soon as humanly possible, completely lest they blindly fall directly into Steve's lethal, heavily armed ambush."
As her physical condition rapidly recovered from the trauma, Stella quickly, aggressively recalled many crucial, highly lethal pieces of tactical information she had completely overlooked in her exhausted, adrenaline-crashed daze after being miraculously rescued last night.
But soon, she frowned heavily, her delicate eyebrows drawing together, and her frantic, searching movements stopped completely dead in their tracks.
Because Stella suddenly, horrifyingly realized that exactly after permanently losing her personal smartphone, she absolutely couldn't remember Charlie Croker's highly encrypted, secure contact numbers at all.
"Exactly what is wrong?" Arthur asked, his voice sharp with calculated concern, his dark eyes instantly locking onto her panicked frame.
Arthur flawlessly saw Stella standing completely stunned and frozen on the edge of the bed after abruptly waking up, and he absolutely couldn't help but close his book, stand up smoothly, and walk over to ask.
Stella hesitated for a tense, agonizing moment, biting her lower lip, before finally answering Arthur's probing question.
"The paranoid Steve absolutely doesn't know his massive gold bricks were flawlessly stolen by you," Stella explained, her voice trembling slightly with the heavy, bloody implications of the misunderstanding.
"He completely, arrogantly thought Charlie stole them back. So he aggressively kidnapped me off the streets and called Charlie directly, violently demanding he perfectly prepare the heavy gold bricks within a single day to securely exchange for my safe return."
"Last night, he also absolutely seemed to have gone desperately to Steve's heavily armed villa to aggressively try and rescue me," Stella added, her heart aching with a sudden, heavy wave of guilt for the immense danger Charlie might currently be facing.
Arthur nodded slowly, his handsome face completely unreadable, betraying absolutely no emotion. He said incredibly indifferently, "The Charlie you are constantly talking about, is he absolutely that famous, internationally renowned master thief?"
"Those massive gold bricks of Steve's, were they violently stolen by them from Italy a grueling year ago?" Arthur asked, feigning absolute, innocent curiosity while his cold mind analyzed the variables.
"Mm," Stella nodded heavily, confirming the dark, bloody history of the Venice heist.
She logically felt it was entirely unnecessary and certainly completely impossible to actively hide the massive truth from this highly capable young man who seemed completely full of lethal, dark secrets himself.
Arthur then smiled a wide, highly reassuring smile and waved his large, calloused hand dismissively. "Miss Bridger, you absolutely do not need to desperately worry about them at all."
"As far as I logically know from the underground streets, the international thief Charlie Croker possesses the absolute world's top, undisputed theft team."
"Absolutely every single one of them is a world-class, highly specialized talent in their respective fields."
"Even if I absolutely hadn't violently interfered in the dark last night, they should have flawlessly been able to aggressively rescue you easily from that compound on their own," Arthur stated, his tone dripping with calculated, unshakeable confidence.
Stella was just about to nod in heavy, hopeful agreement, but then her sharp, analytical mind suddenly remembered a glaring, undeniable fact.
Charlie, herself, and Left Ear had been meticulously, obsessively observing and planning around Steve's heavily fortified luxury villa in absolute secret for almost a full, grueling month.
Yet, before their supposedly flawless, masterfully crafted operation could even be officially, physically carried out, Steve's massive mountain of gold was miraculously, violently stolen by this imposing young man, who also confidently claimed to be a mere thief, right directly out from under everyone's noses.
Her intense, bright blue gaze involuntarily fell heavily on his rugged, completely calm face.
In a single, terrifying instant, Stella's remaining, fragile confidence in Charlie Croker's legendary abilities wavered even vastly more, shattering like thin ice.
Are they really completely okay? Stella whispered in her mind, genuine, profound doubt lacing her thoughts as she compared Charlie's slow, hesitant planning to Arthur's terrifying, lightning-fast execution.
But thinking carefully and analytically about the dark, bloody past, because her beloved father, John Bridger, had foolishly accepted Charlie's desperate invitation and fatally postponed his permanent retirement to actively participate in his botched theft operation,
Stella had quietly, bitterly held a massive, undeniable, festering grudge against Charlie Croker ever since her legendary father violently lost his life entirely because of his sloppy planning and misplaced trust in Steve.
So much so that when the mastermind Charlie finally, aggressively appeared before her again in Los Angeles,
And desperately invited Stella to violently steal Steve's massive gold together to strictly get righteous, non-lethal revenge on Steve,
Although she absolutely didn't formally refuse the dangerous, highly illegal offer, her absolute main, driving motivation was completely, undeniably still to violently avenge her murdered father, absolutely not to help Charlie secure a massive payday.
Stella absolutely hadn't actually fully moved past the heavy emotional knot of Charlie directly causing her beloved father's death.
Therefore, besides strictly keeping his encrypted contact information on her secured phone, she absolutely hadn't entered his dangerous life, nor had she let him start entering hers in any meaningful capacity.
So right now, even though Stella was undeniably somewhat worried about Charlie and the surviving crew, she quickly, logically realized that exactly after losing her phone, she had absolutely no physical way of contacting them at all.
As for aggressively returning to Steve's fortified luxury villa to physically check on the violent situation,
Stop joking!
The paranoid Steve was probably violently searching the entire sprawling city for her right now with his heavily armed mercenaries.
If Stella really foolishly showed up and actively appeared right under his murderous nose, that would be exactly like a helpless sheep walking directly into a starving tiger's mouth, and personally delivering itself to the slaughterhouse doors at that.
Realizing this grim, undeniable reality, Stella could absolutely only nod helplessly.
She silently planned to securely call her locksmith company vastly later to ask the front desk if Charlie and the others had miraculously appeared there or securely left a coded message.
Otherwise, she really completely couldn't get in touch with them for the immediate time being.
Getting smoothly out of the warm bed, Stella, who was in absolutely no mood to talk about the terrifying past anymore, retreated into the cramped bathroom and stayed securely in there for a long while, washing her face with hot water to ground herself.
When she finally came out again, looking vastly more refreshed, she picked up the boxed breakfast and saw it was a small, aromatic black pepper beef pizza. Surprisingly, the thick crust and rich toppings were absolutely still somewhat warm.
"Aren't you having some?" Stella asked, glancing over at him.
Stella rarely ever ate greasy pizza before, maintaining a strict diet, but in the past two agonizing days, she had been violently imprisoned and completely starved by Steve.
Now, even common fast food she used to casually look down on smelled and tasted incredibly, unbelievably delicious.
"I have already eaten," Arthur replied smoothly, turning a page in his heavy book.
Hearing this, Stella nodded gracefully and then sat down, beginning to eat with quiet, ravenous desperation.
"Are you absolutely sure you want to aggressively learn [Lockpicking] from me?" Stella asked after swallowing a large bite.
She sat comfortably on the edge of the bed, not far from Arthur, observing him closely while she ate. Clearly, exactly after deeply, analytically thinking it over all night, Stella had firmly made up her highly intelligent mind.
The warm, confident smile on Arthur's handsome face immediately became even vastly brighter.
"I am absolutely sure!" Arthur stated, his dark eyes locking onto hers with profound intensity.
"I will call you Arthur, then. You should absolutely stop calling me Miss Bridger too; just call me Stella," she offered, lowering the final, formal barrier between them.
Stella hesitated for a brief, tense moment before suddenly asking, her blue eyes filled with genuine concern, "Arthur, exactly why did you become a thief?"
"Since you know perfectly well that John Bridger was my legendary father, you should also know undeniably that the life of theft leads to absolutely no good end."
Arthur was momentarily stunned, his hands stilling on the book. He clearly hadn't expected Stella, whom he had technically known for less than twenty-four chaotic hours, to kindly, genuinely advise him against the dangerous underworld.
Obviously, precisely because he had violently risked his life to flawlessly save hers, this intelligent woman had already organically started treating him as a true, trusted friend.
What a genuinely good woman, Arthur thought silently, a faint trace of unexpected respect warming his calculating heart.
Arthur thought for a calculated, solemn moment before answering, his voice dropping into a quiet, honest register.
"My parents tragically died very early in my life, and I have absolutely no other living relatives. I had to aggressively find a way to financially support myself on these unforgiving streets."
This was a very realistic, grounded answer. Arthur absolutely wasn't lying about his orphaned status in his original life, though he was deliberately being vague with the specific, otherworldly details of his answer.
But Stella absolutely didn't know the impossible truth. For a long, heavy moment, the atmosphere in the cramped hotel room became deeply melancholic and heavy.
"I am incredibly sorry," Stella whispered, her eyes softening with profound empathy.
"Do not worry about it!" Arthur smiled warmly, completely dismissing the heavy gloom.
In the comfortable silence that followed, Stella quickly, cleanly finished the small black pepper beef pizza, savoring every single bite.
After eating, she wiped her mouth delicately with a napkin and looked directly at Arthur, who had become completely silent again and was quietly, intensely reading his complex book on the side.
After hesitating for a calculating moment, she spoke again, her tone shifting entirely to strict business.
"As for my locksmith company, I am deeply worried the paranoid Steve might still be aggressively watching the building with his armed men, so I absolutely won't go back there for the immediate time being."
"Didn't you desperately want to organically learn the advanced [Lockpicking] skill directly from me?" Stella stood up, her posture straightening with quiet, professional authority. "Come with me to a highly secure place in a bit."
"There are many specialized, highly complex tools perfectly hidden there that can massively help me meticulously teach you exactly how to pick the world's toughest locks."
Arthur closed the heavy book with a sharp, satisfying snap.
"Okay!"