Page 3 of Epic

"Fair warning," I tell him for the sake of transparency. "If I don't know your name, I'm just going to call youprincessforever."

"Go for it." He shrugs. "The last person who named me got drunk first, so we can't be sure the nurse who filled in the paperwork that day got it right anyway."

That gets a rough laugh out of me. It sounds scratchy and weird rattling its way up my throat, likely because I haven't done it for ages. My angry little princess looks startled by it, then suspicious, like my laughter is a prewarning for something else he hasn't dealt with before and might need to build up new defences against.

"My name's Ryan," I offer up like it's a sacrifice to his alter.

Princess somehow manages to look down his nose at me despite being at least a foot shorter. "Ryan," he says, teasing my name out nice and slow. "My original directive still stands.Piss. Off."

"What," I gasp, heavy on the sarcasm, "even now we're friends?"

Princess gives me a droll look. "If we were friends, you would have pissed off when I asked the first time."

"Really?" I wrinkle my nose. "Sounds fake, but ok."

Princess gets this really exasperated scowl on his face, looking like he wants to order that my head be taken off. "I'm not working for anyone if that's what you're getting all excited about." He gestures at the wheel in front of him. "This is a freelance theft job."

I raise my eyebrows, surprised he was able to accurately discern what I was worried about. "But do you know who this car belongs to?"

"Paul Winters," he answers immediately, more than a little bite in how he says the name. I can't blame him for it. Paul Winters is known throughout the city for being a real prick, even by crime family standards. He'd be the sort to take advantage of a pretty, desperate street kid. All the teen hustlers know to stay out of his way when he comes trolling for a new side piece. Anyone he takes on lasts maybe a couple of years before they're strung out on whatever drugs he pumps into their bodies to make them more pliable. He likes his boys dependent on him for their happiness, even if that happiness comes in the form of a chemical high.

"He cause you some damage, princess?" I ask, the tone of my voice already set to a low simmer of anger. On any other day, I'd think Paul Winters was a piece of shit I wouldn't mind seeing fall from the top of a very tall building. For some reason, the thought of him doing anything to Princess makes me want to take my knife to his balls, and thenkick himoff the nearest roof myself.

"Not me," Princess murmurs, fury burning in his eyes like a tree set alight, pupil eclipsing iris, green leaves turning to blackened husks on gnarled branches.

"But someone?" I guess, trying not to frown at my profound sense of relief.

Princess makes a noise of disgust, loud and acidic. "There's always someone with blokes like him."

True enough.

"Is that why you're doing this, then?" I ask, nodding at the Porsche. "Because taking his wheels is gonna be a short-lived revenge. Not worth the risk of anyone tracking it back to you when you try to sell the tyres. Most chop shops around here have a line to the Winters family, you know?"

Princess glowers at me like I've missed the point entirely. "It's not just about fucking up his night." He sounds incredulous at the idea of doing anything this reckless for that reason alone. At least he has some self-preservation.

Tiling my head sideways, I eye him thoughtfully. "What else is it about?"

He seems reluctant to answer, discomfort seeping into the hunch of his shoulders.

In an attempt to prove something to him, the need for which I barely understand myself, I let go of my knife and show him my empty hand.

Princess stares hard at me for long enough that it begins to feel more awkward than anything else. But my persistence pays off when he admits, "There are some kids…they're sick, but they won't go to the hospital. Don't want to risk being sent back into care. I can buy the medicine they need from someone I know, but I need a good chunk of money."

"So, you're gonna use the cash you get from selling the wheels to pay for the meds?" I clarify.

Princess dips his head in a quick nod. "Yeah."

It's not at all what I was expecting, but that's fine. Adapting to drastic changes is what I've become accustomed to since I landed on the street.

"Well alright, then. I can work with that."

Princess squints at me in bewilderment. "What?"

"I know someone we can sell them to who won't dobb us in to the Winters," I explain confidently. "She won't be able to pay the full whack, but what she can give us should be enough for any meds you need, and I swear she's safe."

"You want to help me steal tyres from Paul Winters to get money for some sick kids?" Princess glowers mutinously, like I'm playing a trick he can't decipher but has resolved to be unimpressed by no matter what.

"'Course." I shrug with forced geniality. It needs to seem like I'm nonchalant about the whole thing, otherwise, Princess will get scared off. "Now I understand why you're doing it, it's worth the risk, right?"