Page 86 of Dance of Devils

“Good enough for you to trust me?”

“Another two hundred woulddefinitelymake me trust you.”

Jesus.

I scowl as I hand it over. “Where does she live?”

Caroline glances around and leans closer. “Again, this isn’t like, public knowledge. But I have eyes, and…well, I’ve been there myself,” she says hollowly. She takes a breath. “Pretty sure she’s living out of her car.”

I go still.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, come on. Carries toiletries around with her in her bag? Usually has extra changes of clothes? Never has anyone over, never shares a cab with anyone after work?” She gives me a look. “And when she takes the subway home, it’s to wildly different neighborhoods all over the city.” She sighs. “That’s not a girl who moves house a lot. That’s a girl who has to moveher cara lot to avoid tickets, suspicion, creeps…that sort of thing. Like I said…” She looks right at me, her face stony. “I’ve been there. And that girl?” She shakes her head. “She'swaytoo sweet for the streets. I’m amazed she’s lasted as long as she has.”

Cold numbness throbs inside me. It’s partly rage—fury at the cards Brooklyn has been dealt: poverty, the fact that she fucking workshere, taking her clothes off for money and all the fucking shit that comes with that.

But there's something else I feel, which is foreign to me.

The need to protect. To shield her from the darkness of a world that keeps trying to drag her down.

To saveher from it.

And also, a burning desire todestroythat darkness, as well as anyone who tries to come near what’smine.

20

BROOKLYN

“Wait,you’re seriously not coming with?”

I smile as I look up at Val from where I'm stretching on the studio floor. He’s with Naomi and Evelina, who are both, like him, already showered and dressed.

A few of my friends made plans to go out to dinner before hitting what has become our new favorite club, Doomsday, after rehearsal today. But there’s no way I can join them.

I barely have two dollars to rub together at this point, and I don’t even have anything suitable to wear anymore.

I ended up calling Evie after I ran from James, making up some crap about my building management spraying for cockroaches and asking to crash at her place for the night.

I figured she’s single, unlike most of my friends, so it’d just be the two of us. Also, Evie’s pretty naive, so she’d be the least likely of my friends to notice anything wrong and press me on it. I know that sounds shitty, but I mean it in the nicest way. Evie is just…sweet.

The third reason, much as I hate to admit it, is that Evie lives with her dad.

As in, at a heavily guarded Bratva fortress of a mansion.

As in, somewhere I mightactuallyget some sleep without worrying James would find me.

I sigh, shaking my head. “Nah, I want to get some conditioning in. Then I need to go back to my place and make sure pest control didn’t leave my door unlocked or anything.”

He groans. “Fine… I guess.” He frowns, stretching his muscled, tattooed arms overhead before shoving his fingers through his hair. “Nothing I can do to convince you?” He gives me a look only I see and mouths “My treat.”

I know he says it because he gets me. But I shake my head.

“Next time. Promise.”

He doesn’t push.

Val is agem. He knows enough about my life, having lived a similar one, that he gets when I need a hand. But healsogets that sometimes, you’re just down, but that doesn’t automatically mean you’re looking for help.