Page 61 of Daisy
"Ready?" August asks.
I look around one more time. At the bed where I learned what it meant to sleep without nightmares. The couch where August reads while I fix things with my hands. The kitchen table where we eat breakfast together every morning.
Home.
"Yeah," I lie.
The electronics store is three blocks away. We buy two burner phones with cash. Basic models. No GPS, no data plan. Just calls and texts.
"Bank next," August says, checking Dante's card.
The ATM is inside a 24-hour grocery. I wait outside while August maxes out the withdrawal. Four thousand eight hundred dollars. Dante's entire savings, probably.
When he comes out, his face is grim.
"Done," he says.
We walk back to the car in silence. The weight of what we're doing settles heavier with each step. There's no going back now. We're officially off the grid.
"Black market contact?" I ask as we get in.
"Dante gave me a name. Tyler. Works out of a garage in the industrial district."
I know the area. Rough neighborhood. The kind of place where people don't ask questions and money talks louder than law.
"Dangerous?"
"Probably." August's scent carries anxiety. "But it's what she needs."
The drive takes twenty minutes. Past neighborhoods that get progressively shittier. Buildings with broken windows and graffiti tags. Streets where cops don't patrol after dark.
The garage sits between a liquor store and a check-cashing place. Chain link fence, razor wire. Security cameras that probably work.
"Stay in the car," I tell August.
"Like hell."
"This isn't your world?—"
"You're my world." His hand finds mine. "We do this together."
The bond between us flares. Warm and solid and absolutely certain. August might be beta, might be gentle and scholarly, but he's got steel underneath. He won't be left behind.
"Together," I agree.
Tyler is exactly what I expected. Mid-forties, scarred hands, suspicious eyes. The kind of man who's seen everything and trusts nothing.
"Dante sent us," I say.
His expression doesn't change. "Dante's good people. What you need?"
"Heat suppressants. Omega grade. Strong ones. And blockers if you have them."
"How many?"
"A month's worth."
That gets his attention. Eyes narrow.
