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“If you don’t mind sharing with the rodents, some as big as a dog.” I shiver, wrapping my arms around my middle. “We can at least have a place that is safer than this for us.”
As he simply shrugs, I feel a wave of disappointment wash over me, and I can't help but release a sigh of frustration. Pushing myself up from the floor, I realize we still have a precious hour before the pawn shops open their doors, and if we truly desire a substantial payout, we'll have to seek a more upscale establishment.
Determined, I make my way to my space, purposefully fluffing the pillow I had treated myself to, indulging in its softness. I meticulously rearrange the blankets, ensuring their comforting embrace surrounds me. Finally, I settle down on the worn-out mattress nestled in the corner, finding solace in its well-worn charm. It's here, within the confines of this humble corner, that I immerse myself in the captivating allure of my guilty pleasure.
* * *
I walk outof the jewelry shop with an extra spring in my step. Bianca didn't even hesitate when she handed me nine thousand for the Rolex, and I'm certain I could have squeezed a couple thousand more out of her if I had pushed harder. But what she gave me is enough to cover at least two months of rent on the Lower East Side, a safer option compared to an abandoned warehouse. Thankfully, we face little trouble from people in Harlem; most of them keep to themselves, although, occasional fights break out. It's nothing Sin and I haven't witnessed before.
Perhaps we could even catch a glimpse of the East River from our new place. The sight of water has always had a soothing effect on me, bringing a sense of calm and grounding. The thought of leaving behind the slums, even if it meant moving just a few miles south, fills me with a newfound lightness. Plus, it's still a quick journey to Midtown and the Theater District, both of which offer great opportunities to earn some extra cash. As long as I continue finding unsuspecting suits or tourists, we should be able to sustain our new place.
The city has thousands, if not millions, of each.
My familiarity with the streets guides me along Central Park, retracing my steps toward the hideout where Sin is still fast asleep. I can't wait to share the news with him. I'm certain he'll find the idea of having bolt locks on our door appealing. After all, he always keeps a weapon nearby, ready to defend our abandoned sanctuary against any unwelcome intruders.
I know I would cherish a secure closet to retreat into during my heats. The effectiveness of my cheap suppressants has been inconsistent lately, leaving me uncertain when a breakthrough heat may strike. It's been nearly three months since my last one, so I'm certain another is looming on the horizon.
In my mind's preoccupation, I failed to register the presence of the group loitering near the alley, the route I typically use to return to the warehouse, until I was nearly upon them. But it wasn't a gang as I had assumed; instead, it was a cluster of suits. What the hell was affluent alphas doing in the streets of Harlem? Swiftly, I slipped into the sheltered entrance of a boarded-up shop, cautiously peeking around the corner to observe them.
The alpha in command sports cufflinks that hold a value substantial enough to cover rent in the Lower East Side for a year, if not more. His silver watch glimmers, drawing attention as he points toward the abandoned building we have been occupying. With his golden blond hair capturing the midday sunlight and accentuating his tan complexion, his visage exudes an air of expensive refinement. He meticulously maintains every aspect of his appearance, from his clean-shaven face to the pair of eyeglasses resembling fucking Bentleys that are worth more than the combined worth of his cufflinks. The exorbitant price tag on those glasses exceeds the cost of most homes, nearing half a million dollars.
Damn. He isn't just any suit; he is filthy rich, too.
His features resemble those of a model rather than a corporate executive. Chiseled angles and broad shoulders that could easily grace a billboard. If his neck is any sign, his abs must be equally well-defined. I can't help but focus on his fucking neck, feeling an intense urge to nuzzle into him, even from this distance. He has a way of setting my pulse racing and my breath quickening, despite not being close enough to catch his scent.
His head swivels in my direction, and it feels like his gaze is caressing my skin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. My legs tremble, and I hastily retreat into the safety of my hiding spot, blending into the shadows of the doorway. My hands turn clammy, and the ringing in my ears drowns out any other sound. I take slow, deliberate breaths, struggling to regain control over my omega senses that are urging me to surrender myself to this stranger on a silver platter. The very thought sends a chilling jolt through my veins. I would never allow an alpha to take control over me.
Drawing in a deep breath, I hold it, inching my head forward to peek around the corner. I observe as the men climb into their luxurious cars and the doors are slammed shut. A sigh of relief escapes me as, one by one, the vehicles pull away from the street.
I'm not sure of their purpose for being here, but it adds to my determination to secure a safe apartment. If they return, ifhereturns—I have to be gone.
CHAPTER2
Audrey
"Sin,"I hiss, nudging him once more with the tip of my shoe. "Wake up. We need to leave."
He mumbles something and covers his face with his arm, still refusing to open his eyes. A gentle snore escapes his lips, and I let out a sigh. I miss the old version of my brother, the one before everything changed and depression took over. I blink away the sadness and give him a harder kick. He grunts, sitting up and reaching for the gun that had been resting on the cushion beside him, now securely held in my grasp.
“I said get up. We need to leave.”
“Where are we going?” he asks as he scrubs his hand over his face.
“The Lower East Side, grab your shit,” I say. Pulling the bag containing my pillow, blanket, and a few changes of clothes securely onto my shoulder, I turn my gaze back to the broken door. “There were suits sniffing around. I bet they are going to be in here with construction any day now. We need to be gone.”
“You pawned it?”
“Yeah, it was a good haul. Even if we don’t find a place today, we can get a room somewhere for a few nights.”
He rises from his seat and stretches, my gaze instinctively drawn to the deep scar that runs across his abdomen, a constant reminder of his infertility, ensuring an alpha will never claim him. At times, I wish it had been me instead. But then I realize that if our roles were reversed, I might also be as damaged as he is. It's as if drugs and pain are the only things that can truly reach him now. That fateful night rewired him completely, erasing any semblance of choice from his life.
He retrieves his gun from my grasp and tucks it discreetly into the waistband at the small of his back, hidden beneath his shirt. Grabbing his already packed bag, he nods toward the exit, silently signaling our departure.
“Lead the way, sis,” he says, and we head back out into the sunlight.
The subway car is crammed with people as we wedge our way inside. It feels as if the ride takes forever, and I only take small inhales of breath of the dank air. The mingling scents of omegas and alphas create an overpowering odor, making me grateful when the doors finally open, allowing me to stumble out onto the platform.
How do people endure this every single day?
