Famous Fictional Thieves Novels & Stories

"He also said that you—" "I'm sorry to say that I'm a long way from that powerful figure everyone tries to label me," interrupted Reeves, "stories are magnified every time they pass on. Some folk writers have done their best to make me as scary as the Xiongnu Emperor. Not that I'm claiming my innocence, of course I've run a smuggling syndicate. And while I admit my methods are problematic, I'm still a better crime hunter than any Canon detective." "I don't understand how you can command thieves and smugglers and be a criminal at the same time."

My eyes searched frantically, my fingers gripping harder. Don’t… Please don’t let him be here. Please…. He can’t hear what I’m about to say. HE CAN’T. I swallowed the clog down and frowned at the demanding gazes of the reporters, consciously aware of Papa’s observation of me, and flatly announced. ‘Mr. Ralph Virtus is nothing but a fraud. A descendant of the mafia family and generations of thieves, he wanted reformation and I had believed him. But evidence has suggested otherwise—.’ The clicking and flashing hastened with the fierce speed of the typing sounds.

On the first page, the introduction stated: [The man who steals had been known as a thief, a gentleman of knowledge, a flying thief, and there are sects of stealing, such as…] “Damn it! Why are they all the same? So pretentious,” Darryl muttered, but it was not long before he was hooked on the contents of the book. The Cult Mistress was right; this was indeed an interesting read. The stealing techniques used by modern-day thieves were considered unprofessional. This included using tools such as using long tweezers to steal a phone from a lady’s bag.

The silk sheets mended on my body, like a warm marshmallow, my breath felt better, I twirled in my sleep when I tried to move my hand I could not, that’s when my eyes snapped open, and I came into realization of what could be happening. The nightmare, it’s not a nightmare, it’s my new reality, one that I may never be able to escape from I am the prisoner of Liam Moretti, the mafia king, the Lord to all wrongdoings and it terrified me

“Now you’ve got me intrigued.” My lips curved faintly. “Intrigued?” “How does a thief know how to navigate corporate negotiations and contract presentations?” I let out a quiet laugh. “Just because I’m a thief doesn’t mean I’m dumb.” I continued, “If anything, thieves are some of the smartest people alive.” That earned a quiet laugh from him, low and unexpected. “Is that so?” “Of course,” I replied. “You think stealing is easy? One wrong move and everything falls apart. You learn to think ahead and read people before they read you.”

he demanded. “I ran away, I wouldn’t say run more like snuck away cause they were about to sell me to some disgusting abusive old rich man so I got into the trunk of your car and hid here till we arrived in this unusual place,” I explained. “I’m surprised none of you noticed, I could have robbed you, you know?” “So you’re a thief?” Gerald asked. “No, I am not a thief, you’re the thief” I retorted. “She is a thief,” the shop owner who was still being pushed back by the guards said.

His hand gripped mine tighter, almost painfully. The lead officer, a stern man with a badge, approached our group. “Thornhart Maritime? We have credible reports of smuggled goods moving through your section. We’re searching everything.” Lucas stepped forward, trying to stay calm. “Officer, there must be some mistake. Our cargo is fully declared—” The officer cut him off, waving the warrant. “We’ll see about that.” I watched as officers began opening containers. My mind raced. If they found anything illegal here, especially anything linked to Laurent's methods. It could destroy Thornhart’s reputation and give James exactly what he wanted.

Or rather, the life of my future career in media. I wanted to call his bluff. But even I could tell that every word he said, he meant. So, I stood there, and watched him call me a thief. I watched him say that fucking ridiculous proposal that would be my ticket to redemption –at least for stealing his Rolex watch eight years ago. I learned to cope with the guilt over the years. The guilt of stealing that hot stranger’s wristwatch. That hot stranger that fucked me so good that I – I shook the thought away instantly. No. I wasn't going to go there.

“At the top.” I didn’t consider my husband to be a criminal because he didn’t kill people, but he made his money in less than notable ways. He and his guys stole famous pieces of art and replaced them with fakes because they sold the originals on the black market for a pretty penny. There were men out there with real van Goghs, da Vincis, and Michelangelos in their bathrooms—while the museums had counterfeits. Now I suspected Bastien was on a whole different—and dangerous—level. “The less I know, the better.”