day.
Thirteen was trafficking anything they could get their hands on—drugs, guns, and even humans. Meanwhile, we were reduced to the crumbs of crime—gambling rings, prostitution, and extortion. It was a miracle Thirteen hadn’t already crushed us under their shoe, but it was only a matter of time.
My heart rate sped up at the thought of Thirteen bringing Exiled to an end, and as always, I wondered if it was hope or dread that I was feeling.
MY STOMACH’S GROWLS GREW EVEN more intense as I drew closer to the Pizzeria. It was a popular tourist spot, and I knew the perfect mark would be waiting inside with a pocket full of cash. The money would only be wasted on some corny souvenir, which would just be stowed away and forgotten once they returned home, so I didn’t feel the least bit bad about robbing them. It was up to me to spend their money better—maybe on a nice juicy steak—so why not?
Wren said I had to be the worst ‘homeless’ person in history.
I honestly didn’t get his beef. Sure, a steak was a splurge, but at least it wasn’t drugs.
And in Manhattan—the central hub for tourists—there were plenty of pockets to pick.
Like the group leaving the Pizzeria now.
I could practically smell the money. It overpowered even the scent of the pizza making my stomach growl. They all looked my age, maybe a year or two older, so I figured they were skipping school for some kind of double date. A guy with reddish brown hair and tattoos everywhere abandoned the girl he’d been flirting with by the door and joined them. He didn’t fit like a fifth wheel, so I figured he was the group’s resident playboy. I didn’t get a good look at any of their faces, but I didn’t need to. I only cared about what was in their wallets.
They walked a short distance before one of the guys stopped in front of a shop overflowing with souvenirs and ducked inside. His friends, the one covered in tattoos and the other with an impressive set of muscles, followed after him while the girls stood on the sidewalk talking. Well, the petite one with dark brown skin and doe eyes chatted. Her friend, sporting a messy dark blonde ponytail, brooded while only pretending to listen. I liked her already.
The guys were flashier, so I had been hoping to lift one of their wallets, but I guess their girlfriends would have to do. The broody one was distracted, too deep in her thoughts to see me coming, so I chose her as my victim. Picking up my pace and making sure to keep my head down, I purposely bumped into her, and while she was busy fighting to stay upright, I slipped my hand into her pocket, mumbled an apology and kept moving with her wallet and her cell phone in tow. The cell was just a beat-up flip phone, and her wallet only had forty bucks. I was cursing my bad luck and had half a mind to turn back and give the shit back when I heard someone roar my name.
I knew that voice, and right now, I loathed that voice.
I knew he would be looking for me.
That morning a month ago when Wren jumped from my window and didn’t look back, I decided I wouldn’t, either. When he’d texted that something came up and he wouldn’t be able to drive me to school, after all, I knew he was avoiding me. It was the same song and dance, and I should have been used to it by now. What pissed me off the most is that I’d waited for him anyway. Every night, I lay awake waiting for my window to slide open and for him to fill my room as easily as he’d done my heart, but he never showed. On the morning of the third week—the longest he’d ever stayed away—I walked away from the shelter the Hendersons provided.
That had been a week ago, and I’d left everything behind. The cash he always seemed to leave lying around, the phone I knew he was tracking, and my foolish, broken heart.
I should have known it wouldn’t last.
Even in a city with over eight million people, he always managed to find me. We might as well have been the only two people on the planet.
Before I could run, my feet briefly left the ground when he grabbed my hood and yanked me into him. “Give it back,” he