Page 45 of The Cousins and the Brunette

“Shut up! Dumb bitch.” the smaller one snapped.

I tried to move out of his grip but he held on tight. Pain radiated up my arm. “Think about it. Do you really want to explain to Shoemaker why his precious Nant-bots are missing because you were too busy playing cops and robbers with little ol’ me?”

They exchanged uncertain glances, and I knew I’d struck a nerve.

Maybe I could talk my way out of this mess. I had nothing to lose…but my life.

“Maybe we just rough her up some,” the larger man suggested, stepping closer.

“Or maybe you let me go, and nobody has to know about this little incident.” Then suddenly my heart sank. I realized something crucial—my presence here endangered everyone I cared about now that I’d been caught by these two ass-wipes.

A sudden realization hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs. I’d been so focused on the immediate danger, I’d overlooked the bigger picture. If these goons connected me to the Porters, it wouldn’t just be my ass on the line. I’d inadvertently painted a target on the backs of the people I’d come to care about over the last few months. The thought of my lovers caught in the crossfire of this mess made me feel physically ill. I had to find a way out, and fast—not just for my sake, but for everyone I’d stupidly dragged into this clusterfuck of a heist.

In that moment, I made a decision. With a swift move born of desperation, I stomped hard on the smaller henchman’s foot. As he howled, I twisted away from his loosened grip.

“Later, boys!”

I ran as fast as my feet could carry me, adrenaline pumping through my veins. Behind me, I could hear the men shouting and cursing, but I refused to look back. My only thought was to get out of this place and find a way to keep my loved ones safe.

I zigzagged through the mansion’s halls. Every step away from the lab felt like a betrayal, a fracture in the bond I shared with the cousins.

I burst through a door and found myself in a dimly lit hallway. It was eerily quiet. I couldn’t let my guard down just yet. Every instinct in me screamed to keep moving, so I did.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of running, I saw a door up ahead that led outside to the gardens. Relief flooded through me. I pushed open the door and stumbled out into the night air.

I took a moment to catch my breath. Then I started running again until the mansion was a mere silhouette against the starless sky. My chest heaved, my body wracked with adrenaline-fueled tremors. By saving myself, I’d abandoned them.

Sorry, guys. I hope you can forgive me. Even as the words left my lips, I knew our relationship would never be the same again.

Chapter Thirteen

BRYNN AND THE COMMUNITY CENTER

As the last golden hues of sunset bled out behind the skeletal remains of once glorious high-rises, I made my way back to Marla’s community center after leaving Shoemaker’s mansion and abandoning the heist. I walked past dilapidated buildings and graffiti-scribbled walls narrating tales of defiance and decay. Drones buzzed overhead like relentless mosquitos, surveilling for those who dared disturb the fragile peace of the city’s underbelly.

My shoulders slumped beneath the weight of the Nant-bot heist gone wrong, and my eyes darted nervously between alleys. Every rustle of wind whipped trash could’ve been Shoemaker’s goons, eager for retribution. The pounding of my heart echoed in my ears. I neared the community center.

Yet, I hesitated at the entrance, and when the door opened, it wasn’t just the familiar scents of old books and lemon cleaner that greeted me—it was home.

“Kay!” I barely managed to brace myself before she barreled into me, her light-brown hair a wild mane around her face, the freckles across her nose seemingly multiplying since I last saw her. “Brynn! You’re back!”

Marla followed, her blonde curls escaping the confines of her loose bun, framing her weathered and kindly face. She wrapped us both in her sturdy arms, a laugh rumbling from deep within her belly. The love we shared transcended blood; we were a chosen family, sculpted by the harshness of our world.

“Come on up, girls.” Marla ushered us toward the staircase, her smile the epitome of maternal warmth.

The narrow stairs lurched in protest under our weight. Pushing through the door to Marla’s apartment, the grim reality of the fell away like a discarded cloak. Warmth enveloped us, chasing away the heavy guilt that had clung to my skin for abandoning the Porters and leaving without saying goodbye.

Mismatched furniture littered the room. A colorful quilt lay draped over a patched-up couch, and an overstuffed armchair bore the sagging marks of countless occupants. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books and trinkets from scavenging. Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the window, painting a golden hue on the wooden floorboards.

“Your safe now,” Marla said.

We settled into the cozy space. Kay curled up on the sofa, her legs tucked under her, the picture of childlike contentment. Marla took her place beside her, while I found myself anchored between them.

“Tell me everything,” Marla said softly.

Her eyes, those kind wells reflecting years of survival and compassion, fixed on me.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past few months press down on me.

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