And she didn’t want to be alone.
FOUR
DORIAN
23 years old
There are parts of life that come without reason. No buildup. No explanation. They just happen. And this, this happened to me.
The mechanic who picked me up that night was the cop’s brother. I didn’t know it then, but they had been planning a bank heist in Salem. What they needed wasn’t a genius or a shooter. They needed someone fast, someone desperate, someone invisible enough to run two blocks with a bag full of stolen cash, because the getaway car couldn’t stop near the bank. It was just too risky.
Risk of my own life for a warm bed and a warm meal, and in the head space that had nothing, it was enough. They didn’t just feed me. They built me. Or thought they did.
In a few short months, that scared little boy who hid from cops became someone else. Now I understand what that saying means:If your family won’t raise you, the streets will.And they did. They raised me their way. I became one of them. Feral kid thirsty for love.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged somewhere. Even if I knew I couldn’t fully trust them, I stillwantedto. I missed the feeling.
They had been planning the job long before I ever showed up. I was just the missing piece; no one would suspect that fit.
The plan was simple. The mechanic and I go in with masks and guns, hold the lobby. The cop would already be inside, on duty, and would guide us toward the vault. Once the money was in bags, it was my job to run. Take the heat, lead the chase, make it look messy, and meanwhile, they play victims, hostages. That way, they’re clean, and no one would suspect them.
I stared at myself in the mirror, holding the white ski mask in my hand. I wore a gray jumpsuit that hung off my hips. My body was covered in tattoos now, all places that were filled with scars. Some tattoos were homemade, scratched into skin with guitar strings and motors. Others were done in the back of the shop for shots of cheap whiskey. I barely recognized myself anymore. But Ilikedwho I saw.
Because the ghosts that used to visit me at night had gone quiet. They just watched me now.
A knock came sharp, then a soft voice followed it.
“You ready, handsome?”
It was Alice.
Her red hair was tied up in a messy bun, two loose strands falling over her cheeks. Her emerald green eyes were locked on mine. Her lips were pink. And she wore a tight black dress that clung to her own shadow. No bra. No panties. She liked being obvious.
I didn’t answer—just nodded.
I never really liked her. But I used her. She was easy on the eyes, and I hadn’t seen soft in a while. The trouble was, she wastheirniece. And if they found out I was sneaking into her bed after dark, I would be six feet under and still bleeding.
She stepped closer, her fingers trailing from my neck down to my bicep, her eyes full of hunger. Like she wanted to eat my soul first, but I didn’t want hers anymore.
She felt like a meal I had eaten too many times. The one you used to crave, until one day you woke up and the thought of it made you sick.
“Stop.” I grabbed her wrist and pushed it away. “I told you I’m done with this.”
She shrugged, stepping back. “You’re no fun anymore.”
I rolled my eyes, pulling the ski mask over my face. Then I turned and pinned her to the wall, just enough for her to feel the difference.
“Fun doesn’t cut it no more.”
She laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re looking for a wife now. Little Dorian wants a family?” Her smirk deepened. “You’re too broken for that.”
Too broken.
Yeah.
I was.
Too broken to live a normal life, but not too broken to want it. That was the worst part. Being part of something, even if it was dark, made me start to crave the light. Even if I knew I would never hold it.
