“Fletcher, right?” he asked gently. I nodded. “My name’s Officer Briggs. I understand you’re overwhelmed, but we really need your cooperation.”
I pressed my lips together, looking down again.
“What’s his name?” Briggs asked.
I shook my head.
“Then tell me where he’s hiding out. You know that much, right?”
My heart took off again. If I told them, I’d have nowhere to go. The police would raid the hideout, clean it out. The whole gang would scatter. Jacks would be furious, and he’d knowexactlywho ratted him out.
Me.
“I can’t,” I whispered bitterly. “It’s my home. It’s all I have. It’s shitty and it sucks, but it has a roof and I don’t have to sleep on anyones’ doorstep.”
“I understand,” Briggs said, his voice low and calm. “You’re in a bad situation. It’s not ideal, I know, but if we can clean out the bad eggs, you’d still have a place, right? If we took the leader out of the equation, you’d feel safer. Right?”
I nodded faintly. My chest ached, like I was standing at the edge of a cliff with someone behind me, ready to shove me off. I was one step away from tumbling over.
“What’s his name?” Briggs asked again.
God, I was so scared… “H-He goes by Jacks. Like the game. He’s about six-four, broad-shouldered, has a tattoo of a koi fish on his left arm. Dark hair, shaved close. Brown eyes. He’s a dog shifter.”
I swallowed hard, then continued. “The gang hangs out at the abandoned mill on Greenville. They’ll probably still be there.”
I sank down in my chair. “Am I going to jail now?”
Briggs gave me a small smile. “No, Fletcher.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
“You’re free to go,” he said. “Mr. Sinclair has decided not to press charges, but he does wish to speak with you before you leave.”
I withered inside.Oh no.
Briggs pulled a ring of keys from his belt, leaned over, and un-cuffed me from the table. I rubbed at my wrists, ringed red from the metal, as he led me down the hall to a room to where the Alpha was waiting.
The Alpha I’d robbed.
My stomach churned. I stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind me. Immediately, I launched into an apology, but Mr. Sinclair held up a hand.
“Sit,” he said. He sounded like a man used to getting what he wanted.
I sat.
Beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, Mr. Sinclair looked different than he had last night. His pale skin was wan, with deep bags beneath his eyes, his brown hair uncombed. He looked like he hadn’t slept either.
He cleared his throat. “If I’m understanding correctly, the officers tell me you’re homeless. Living on the streets,” he said. “Is this true?”
I nodded miserably. What point was there in lying? Now that the gang hideout was going to be raided, my only haven gone, I had nowhere else to go. They’d know I snitched. They’d come for me. I’d need to leave town, find a new pack. Maybe I’d get lucky and someone would take pity on me…
“Well, it just so happens that I have a business proposition for you,” he continued, his voice even. “Your friends damaged my home and stole from me, but you don’t seem the type to rob people blind. I’m willing to give you a second chance. You come work for me—fix the damages, do chores, housework, take care of the lawn—and pay off what you owe. In exchange, I’ll give you a room to stay in.”
For a long moment, I stared at him, stunned into silence. I didn’t understand. “I… I robbed you. Why would you want tohelpme?”
Mr. Sinclair looked at me, his expression faintly puzzled. Then he shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not quite sure myself, but the idea of you sleeping on a park bench bothers me for some reason. So there’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sinclair,” I breathed. “I… I don’t…”
