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Matt laughed. “Lower your standards and you might get a date.”

“I’m not that desperate.” He blinked and was in the club, pressed up against Kass. He should’ve dragged him out the back instead of running. He would’ve gotten more than his number. And then what?

That didn’t change what they were. And every time he closed his eyes, he felt that otherness. The thing that wasn’t him, but a piece of Kass. It was a scab he couldn’t stop picking. When would it go? What if it didn’t?

For half a second, he let himself imagine Kass turning up at his door and sweeping him away from his life like some kind of fairy tale.

But shit like that didn’t happen to people like him. If Kass showed up at his door, he’d most likely end up dead.

* * *

Bailey got homefrom school and dropped his bag on the floor by his bedroom door. He flopped onto the bed then got up straight away, unable to relax and lie still. His stomach grumbled as he paced. He’d shifted not that long ago, two weeks, yet the small apartment closed in around him. He was trapped and needed to run. It was too early in the day to shift, that had to be done after dark, but he could go out for a bit.

He pulled Kass’s wallet out of his school bag and checked how much was in there. Only five. He needed to spend less if he was going to have enough to leave, but he liked being able to buy extra food and clothes that he didn’t have to ask Gran for. He liked that he could give the men the finger and do what he wanted, even if it was in a limited fashion.

His stomach growled. There wouldn’t be enough dinner. There never was.

He hesitated, then reached under his bedside table to grab a fifty so he could buy a pre-dinner meal. This weekend he’d top up his stash, and he’d set himself a budget. He ran his fingers against the wood, expecting to feel the envelope, but there was nothing there. His heart stopped, and cold sweat beaded on his back.

No. It had to be there. He had close to three hundred.

He ran his palm over the carpet, in case the envelope had fallen off. Finally, he put his head on the floor to inspect the gap. Nothing.

A growl formed and anger burned through his veins, scouring them clean with its acid. He stood up with a snap, grabbed his phone and made it as far as the front door, knowing where the money had gone and unable to put the anger into words.

“Where are you going?” Gran came down the corridor from her room at the back of the house.

“Out.” He reached for the door.

“You can’t. There're men coming to see you.”

His lips curved in something too close to a snarl. “They can wait.”

“That’s not how it works.”

He spun to face her, his voice a low rumble. “Where’s my money?”

Her face was a photo of innocence. “Your money?”

“The cash, under my bedside table.” He took a step toward her, fingers curling. Ten years ago she’d been bigger and stronger and had knocked him on his ass for stepping out of line. That wasn’t true anymore. She’d become frail while he’d grown strong.

Her lips drew back, and she stalked toward him. “It’s not yours. It’s theirs. I knew you were hiding something.”

The money was the least of what he was hiding.

“So, you waited until I was at school to toss my room? Then you invited your friends over to shake me down and teach me a lesson?” His nails hurt, desperate to shift and have claws to defend himself.

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that!” They had forced him to watch someone be disciplined once as a warning to keep him in line. He’d barely been shifting a month.

She sighed and forced her mouth into something closer to a soft smile. “Bailey, you don’t understand. We need their protection to stay hidden.” The pleading note wove through her words. Once he’d have caved. But his friends were getting jobs and learning to drive, and he wasn’t. All because of her dumb fear. He was turning into a loser. He gritted his teeth. “This isn’t Russia. We aren’t being hunted.”

“We are always hunted.”

“Give me the money back.”

“No.”