“Steal” arrives on Prime Video with Sophie Turner at the center of a workplace heist that turns personal fast

“Steal” has landed on Prime Video as a compact, six-episode thriller built for the kind of viewing where “one more episode” becomes the whole night. The hook isn’t a glamorous caper or a crew of charming criminals. It’s a financial workplace lockdown that forces ordinary employees into extraordinary decisions, with the tension coming less from explosions and more from pressure: who breaks, who bargains, and who discovers they’re capable of something they didn’t recognize in themselves.

For Sophie Turner, the series is also a deliberate pivot. She plays Zara, an office worker whose day becomes a crisis-management exercise with a pulse—messy, reactive, sharp when she needs to be, and never comfortably heroic. That character choice is a big part of why “Steal” is catching attention now: the show doesn’t ask you to admire Zara so much as understand her as she improvises in a situation that keeps narrowing her options.

A heist that treats “knowing the system” as the most dangerous skill in the room

“Steal” uses a setting that usually signals safety—keycards, conference rooms, routine trades and emails—and flips it into a liability. Once the robbery begins, expertise becomes a form of exposure. The people who understand how money moves, how approvals work, and how access is logged aren’t background characters anymore; they’re leverage.

That dynamic gives the series its edge. The threat isn’t only the armed group inside the building. It’s the sense that the theft is bigger than what anyone can see in the moment, and that the truth will be messy even after the doors open again. The story keeps returning to one question: when a system is designed to be fast, abstract, and impersonal, what happens when human panic gets inserted into the workflow?

Turner’s Zara is the audience’s entry point, but the show splits attention between the people trapped inside and the investigators trying to interpret fragments from the outside. Archie Madekwe plays Luke, another key employee caught in the middle, while Jacob Fortune-Lloyd plays DCI Rhys, the lead detective working the case as the situation spirals. The result is a thriller that spends as much time on split-second choices as it does on the mechanics of the theft itself.

What viewers are getting: six episodes, a full drop, and a cast built for tension

The season dropped in full on January 21, 2026, and it’s structured like a sprint: quick escalation, multiple reversals, and a steady focus on how each character’s “small” decision creates the next problem. It’s not a puzzle-box mystery that asks you to diagram clues. It’s a momentum show—each episode tightening the screw.

Key names in the ensemble include:

• Sophie Turner as Zara

• Archie Madekwe as Luke

• Jacob Fortune-Lloyd as DCI Rhys

• Danai Gurira, Andrew Koji, and Matthew Rhys in prominent supporting roles

(Other supporting players appear throughout as colleagues, investigators, and members of the crew driving the robbery.)

One thing the series does well is avoid making every character a clean archetype. The criminals aren’t cartoon masterminds, and the employees aren’t purely innocent bystanders. “Steal” keeps nudging viewers toward uncomfortable territory: competence can look like complicity, and survival can look like betrayal, depending on where you’re standing.

A few practical notes for anyone deciding whether to start it:

• It’s a limited, six-episode season that plays cleanly as a weekend watch.

• The tone is high-stress and brisk, with more “pressure and negotiation” than spectacle.

• The setting gives it a different flavor from typical heist stories: finance isn’t background—it’s the weapon.

• It’s designed for binge viewing, and the end of most episodes is built to pull you straight into the next.

• The central performance leans into chaos and contradiction, not polished heroism.

Whether “Steal” becomes a one-season hit or something that expands later, its immediate appeal is clear: it turns a familiar workplace into a trap, makes expertise feel dangerous, and gives Turner a role that’s less about being iconic and more about being uncomfortably human—right when the room demands she be something else.