How To Pick Locks Novels & Stories

Perfect for someone with secrets to hide. The door was locked. Of course it was. I knelt down, examining the mechanism. Standard pack house lock, nothing too sophisticated. I pulled a thin piece of metal from my pocket — borrowed from Lena's lock-picking kit without her knowing. First attempt: the pick slipped, scraped against the pins. Too much pressure. Second attempt: better, but I could feel the tension wrong. The pick was bending, close to breaking. Careful. If it breaks, we're done.

ISLA'S POV The lock took forty seconds for me to pick. It was a good lock — better than the one on my cell at Finn's territory, better than most I had encountered in my life, which told me the person who designed Royalfang's secured quarters had actually thought about who might be put in them. But a good lock is still a lock and I had learned to pick them at fifteen from a rogue trader who visited our pack twice a year, and some skills do not leave you regardless of how long it has been since you used them.

I run my hands through the clothes on it and finally found it Gotcha. As always it was locked. Well , good thing I had a Mafia background, so I know a thing or two about opening safes. I had a great time with my father whenever he taught me how to pick locks. I took out a small pin holding my hair from falling on my face. Slowly I inserted it into the lock and twitched it slowly as I had watched my father do. It didn't work. I'm not giving up yet. Then I tried again and again and again.

I prefer reading out of the books rather than listen to that monotone voice of his. I walked over to my locker, pressing in my combination before I opened it wide. These locks weren't the ones where you had to twist and turn them a dozen times before you were able to open the damn thing. These were simple. They had small number pads where you punched in a four-digit code and it opens automatically. How cool was that?

The security camera is located forty-five degrees on my left, so you can position yourself there". "What gives you the idea that I will help you!? And who taught you to pick locks!?" Troy asked, frustrated. "Oh I did, well I learned from Youtube if that's what you're asking. I already experimented with my picklock ability on my flat keyhole, no big deal. I did one time and ended up locked inside my flat for the whole day. Fortunately, I got my keyhole fixed by the next day, ''Rae bragged like it’s an achievement.

I couldn’t walk away, not now. Pulling out my lock-pick kit, I set to work on the older-style lock, grinning when I heard the successful click a moment later. Hell yeah, I still had it. My mother had been the one to teach me the skill, stating that a good Pakhan should never forget the basic skills. Even my sisters were aware of how to pick locks. They were hot targets, and if they ever found themselves in a situation, I wanted them armed with the same skills that could save their lives.

The corridor was lit faintly by a wall sconce, and the door to the kitchen—solid oak reinforced with brass studs—stood imposingly shut. Locked. Of course. But it would not stop her. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the long steel hairpin she'd sharpened last night. It was a poor excuse for a tool, but her hands weren’t clumsy. She was by no means a professional, but her mother had taught her the basics and the principle behind lock picking. Click. Twist. Rake. She felt resistance, then the subtle give of tumblers yielding to pressure. The lock clicked.

TRENT'S POV Man, this lock picking thing was way harder than it looked in those videos. I had watched so many tutorials at that point that I could probably recite them word for word. "Apply tension to the cylinder...use the rake to scrub over the pin stacks...feel for that subtle give when a pin sets..." Yeah, yeah, I knew the drill. But actually executing it was a totally different story. I stared down at the lock on my bedroom door and tried it again, jiggling it up and down hoping to feel even the slightest hint of movement as the pins set. But nothing. The damn thing wouldn't budge.

I stop instinctively and glance around the empty street, but there’s no one there and nothing looks out of place, but still the feeling doesn’t leave. I exhale slowly and try to brush it off as nerves because honestly, breaking into a house where someone was murdered would make anyone uneasy. The front door is locked exactly as expected, so I move around toward the back only to find that door locked too. I stare at it for a second before reaching into my hair and pulling out one of the pins holding it back. Lilly taught me how to pick locks when we were seventeen so that we could easily break into Uncle Gabe’s liquor cabinet because he always had the good stuf