Disposable.
Nate left the main street and dodged between rain barrels in a space too narrow to be called an alley. His head ached like it did every time he let himself consider his origins. Despite his talent with tech, he couldn’t wrap his mind around Gathos City science. Creating life and changing living bodies didn’t make sense, but here he was. Living, more or less—and free of Gathos City.
Freer than that boy would be come morning. He couldn’t shake the lingering grip of regret. He’d had a chance, in that moment, to do something—and he’d run away. More evidence that he was a coward.
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—tell the gang what he was or where he’d come from. None of it. He was stolen goods, and the Breakers loved nothing more than hoarding contraband. The price for a child sold to the trappers was nothing compared to what the Breakers offered to anyone willing to turn in a GEM.
Nate couldn’t force his friends to choose between loyalty to another street kid and the opportunity to rake in a huge bounty.
Guilt formed a knot in Nate’s throat. His gang was sitting on a fortune. And they had no idea.
Because he wasn’t brave enough to tell them the truth.
What if they turned me in?
No one knew what happened to escaped GEMs who took up with the Breakers, but no one ever saw them again once they did.
Chased by his thoughts, Nate squeezed between one last set of rain barrels into Heights Square. Here, the skeletons of long-burned benches rose from the ground, and a mangled playground tilted against the pavement. Broken streetlights hunched over the packed-dirt lot. He fought the urge to linger beside a crackling bin-fire, but he wasn’t the only one drawn to the soothing heat. A lively crowd gathered—a marketplace of transactions Nate wanted no part in. He kept his head down and hurried.
As he weaved his way across the square, a honeyed scent stopped him short. Only one thing smelled like that to Nate—other GEMs. He whirled, bumping into the person walking behind him and mumbling an apology as the man pushed him away with a muttered curse. He was flotsam on the sludge-channel—too short to see where he was going and small enough to be jostled around.
When he gained his balance, the scent was gone. A hollow thud of loneliness took his breath away. Or maybe that was hunger. Maybe the achingly familiar scent had been the peaches in his bag, overripe and sweet.
He wasn’t far from the hideout now, and he broke into a shuffling run for the last block. Darkness deepened the alley he turned into. His skin crawled as he left the bustle of the street for the darkness between two buildings. He felt his way along trash bins and moth-filled air-conditioning units.
Nate left the bag at the bottom of the secret entrance to the hideout and crawled up the duct slowly, fingers sweaty against the creaking ladder. He needed to shake off the mess of his thoughts and focus on what he’d accomplished: the Remedy had soothed away the tremors, and he had a good haul.
Reed won’t suspect anything.
If he told himself that enough times, maybe he’d stop going hollow with dread every time he got back to the hideout.
Nate banged out the day’s entrance code.
The hatch opened immediately, and Reed’s hand jutted out, catching onto Nate’s coat with a clawing grip. “You’re late.”
Nate had never seen anyone quite like Reed—with dark-brown skin, coppery freckles, and bright-green eyes. Reed was beautiful, even with his face lined with worry. His concerned expression made Nate’s belly do a little flip.
“It isn’t night yet.” Nate gestured down the duct with a nod. “Brick better get the bag. I’m done climbing for the day.” He crawled out of the hatch and lost his balance.
Reed caught him with both arms and went still, eyes darting to the press of their bodies. The warmth of his hands seeped through the rough fabric of Nate’s coat. He searched Nate’s face, lips parted gently like he couldn’t remember what he wanted to say. Nate shivered and stared at his mouth.
Brick bumped them on her way down for the bag of food. Her red hair stood on end around her freckled face like a halo of fire, and her cold blue eyes honed in on Nate. “You look like a starved cat.”
Flushing, Nate pulled away from Reed’s grip and let Brick pass. He wobbled toward his bed, trying to shake off the wooziness Reed’s touch had given him—or Reed would think he was chem-struck on top of being late.
Fiends weren’t welcome in the gang. No exceptions. None of them were immune to Reed’s keen observations, the sweeping gaze that seemed to notice every bruise and scratch.
Reed always paid especially close attention to Nate. “No trouble?”
The words lingered between them, heavy with something between suspicion and concern.
“All smooth.” Nate sank into his nest of blankets and unlaced his filthy boots. He forced himself to meet Reed’s gaze, wondering what Reed saw when he studied him. “Really.”
Softening, Reed crouched and nudged Nate’s hands away, taking over with the knots. “I believe you.”
Nate watched Reed’s nimble fingers make quick work of his fraying laces. “Miss Judy gave me bread. I think she wants to take me in.”
“Tell her she can’t poach my Tinkerer.”
