For the next few days, Emily avoided him. She didn't stop by his room, but Kit was certain he heard her footsteps hurry past the door or stop to listen.

Kit, meanwhile, was growing more impatient. He needed to get out of the Masters' household and feel the wind on his face. The itch to go on another job grew stronger with each passing day, as did the desire to steal Mr Masters' motorcar. It was an itch he couldn't quite scratch. His fingers twitched on the blanket, desperate to steal something, and the longer he stayed trapped in the room, the worse the feeling became.

He needed freedom. He needed that damn motorcar.

But he couldn't get the motorcar without Emily and she still wasn't talking to him. Kit, however, had met enough rich men to know they were all the same. The ring, when Mr Masters hadn't taken it to work, was most likely hidden in his study, as were the keys. All Kit needed was the opportunity to take them.

After over one and a half weeks trapped in the room, he finally knew he had to act.

Kit dressed in the clothes he found in the dresser, his leg no longer paining him the same way. He managed to tie the last knot on his shoelace when the purring of the Rolls Royce drifted through the window. Mrs Johnson would be stopping by with supper in a matter of minutes. Moving as quickly as his leg would allow, Kit jumped back into the bed and pulled the covers up to his neck to hide the clothing just as Mrs Johnson stepped into the room.

"Supper, Mr Jones."

"I take it Mr Masters is back," Kit said, trying to keep his tone steady. "Does he eat supper with everyone else?"

"Occasionally. Perhaps soon you will be strong enough to join them rather than stay up here."

"We shall see what the doctor says."

Mrs Johnson laid the tray across Kit's legs, moving carefully as though she might hurt him. The pain had become more of a nuisance than something he noticed frequently. "I shall be back to collect it later."

"Tell me something, Mrs Johnson. If I were to find Mr Masters later this evening to discuss something with him, where would I find him?"

"His study. It's just two doors down."

"Great, thank you."

Mrs Johnson smiled and slowly backed out of the room, leaving him alone with the smell of beef filling the air. She had been more helpful than perhaps she would ever know. Thanks to her, Kit now knew where to go on the search for the motorcar keys and the ring, so long as his assumption was correct. All he had to do was wait for darkness to fall and for everyone to go to sleep.

He ate the supper, thanked Mrs Johnson when she returned to take the tray, and sat on the edge of the bed waiting. Kit's heat beat drummed through his ears. He tapped his fingers against his thighs. Each minute passed by agonisingly slowly until he wondered if time was really moving at all.

After what felt like an eternity, he got up, dragging his injured leg behind him, and stood in front of the window. He looked down at the motorcar still parked in front, his excitement growing. It would be his just as soon as silence fell upon the Masters' house, but silence never came. Instead, the noise level only rose.

Kit listened to the sound of raised voices from the floor below. It was so loud the floor almost shook beneath his feet. He was no stranger to raised voices. He grew up around them, and he could always tell when they were talking about him. Mr Masters' voice boomed everyone else's, but the flooring muffled the sound.

It took a few minutes before it fell silent. Kit could feel the tension easing out of the walls as though the entire house was simply holding its breath, waiting for the next move. Footsteps echoed up the stairs and down the hallway just outside his room.

The door to his room slammed open and Kit spun around, his right leg almost giving out from under him. Emily stood in the doorway. She breathed heavily, her curly hair falling in front of her face. A deep red mark formed on her cheek.

"You need to leave. Now."

"What happened?"

Emily stepped into the room and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him towards the door. "That doesn't matter. You need to leave. Father has summoned the police. He heard about someone being attacked in Mayfair and that they had a ring stolen. The same ring you had in your pocket."

"Do you believe him?"

"It doesn't matter! You have to go!"

"Not without the ring. I won't get far without it." He paused. "Scratch that. I ain't getting far with my leg like this. I need the keys to his motorcar."

"Then come on."

Emily grabbed him by the arm and all but dragged him from the room and into the hallway. She released him, disappeared into the room Mrs Johnson had told him about just an hour or so before, and returned with the small box and the key in hand. Kit took them from her, tucking them into his trouser pocket.

The two of them moved through the hallway, with Emily in the lead. She opened a door he didn't know was there and disappeared into the darkness. Kit followed, cursing his injured leg for making it harder to manoeuvre the hidden staircase. The darkness made it near impossible to know where he was stepping and once or twice he almost slipped.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Emily opened another door and gestured him through. Kit's heart drummed against his chest, the familiar thrilling sensation coursing through his veins. It certainly wasn't the way he wanted to leave the Masters' house, but it was far more exciting than his initial plans.

They snuck through another hallway and through a backdoor, jogging down the steps. Kit smiled at the light breeze on his skin, the warmth from the setting sun being a welcomed change from the stuffy room he'd been stuck in. Emily led him around the back of the house to the front where the Rolls Royce sat waiting for him.

"Go. Now," she said.

He looked at her face, the reddening mark on her cheek and the panicked look in her eyes. "Come with me."

"I can't."

"You don't want to be stuck with your father and his old-fashioned ways, right? You can get away from him if you come with me. Fresh start."

She glanced at the front door, knotting her hands in front of her. "You're a criminal."

"I do what I have to do to survive. You need to decide before your father comes out of there and after my head."

Kit unlocked the Rolls Royce and climbed into the driver's seat, a smile on his face that no doubt would last the rest of the night. He turned the engine on and looked at Emily. After doing all she did to help him escape, he wouldn't leave her behind. The mark on her face, he knew, had come from Mr Masters and he wasn't going to let him hurt her again.

"Emily. Come with me."

She nodded, scrambling into the seat beside him. Kit grinned, running his hands along the steering wheel. The front door to the Masters' house swung open, Mr Masters' mouth open, but his words fell on deaf ears. Kit pulled the car away from the curb, laughing as he drove it into the dark blue night.

First Published - February 3rd, 2024