“You need to leave. Now.”
Her jaw trembles. Not from fear. From rage.
I file that image away.
Strong little thing, isn’t she?
Oxy bumps my shoulder, whispers low. “They’re a problem.”
“Not yet.” I watch the other girl grab her arm, pull her backward, looking around like we’re watching them, and she doesn’t know from which direction. “We’ll see them again.”
“You sure about that?”
I turn, look at him. “When have I been wrong?”
He grins. Shakes his head. “Never.”
Axel runs in our direction moments later.
Stupid. Desperate. Reeking of contrition and fear.
I move like a shadow—intercept, control, silence. My hand finds his throat before he registers I’m there. I slam him against the wall, fingers pressing into the hollow where his pulse hammers.
Not enough to kill. Just enough to command.
“Telling your sister my business?” My voice is flat, clinical.
“No, no—” He stammers, hands scrabbling at my wrist. “I swear, I didn’t—”
“She needs to keep herself out this… and keep her nose in… books. Understand?”
He nods so fast his skull bounces off the brick.
I hold him there for another three seconds. Let the fear marinate. Then I release.
He drops, catches himself on his knees, coughs.
“Tomorrow morning,” I say. “Bring double.”
“Double? I can’t—”
I crouch down, eye level with him. “You will.”
He stares at me, eyes glassy with tears and terror. Then he nods.
I stand, brush past him, and don’t look back.
The car is parked two blocks away, tucked in the shadows between streetlights. I slide into the driver’s seat, pop the glove box, and pull out the envelope Axel handed me earlier.
I count.
Bills spread across the passenger seat like dead leaves. Twenties, tens, a few crumpled fives. I flatten each one, note the serials with a practiced thumb.
More than he owed.
Fools always overpay for a quiet life.
I stack the bills, rubber-band them, tuck them into the inside pocket of my jacket. The weight settles against my ribs, familiar and satisfying.
