Page 1 of This Blood That Breaks Us
Prologue
Ezra
The hot asphalt warmed the soles of my shoes, and a foreign sensation raised the hairs on the back of my neck. A cyclist sped past me. Brooklyn was full of hustle and bustle, and everyone had a place they needed to be, including me.
I searched for the cause of the disturbance, and there they were.
Two young boys, not even teens, snickering on the side of the street. One dark-haired and the other blond.
The twins.Not likely. They could have been just brothers. They didn’t look alike.
It didn’t worry me. Fate was ironclad. They would make it to us one way or another, but the foreign sensation was enough to make me linger there for a moment longer.
The blond was chatty and personable and talked some women into giving him five dollars for a fundraiser while the otherwas calm and calculated. Calculated enough to snatch a twenty from the side pocket of another woman’s purse when she wasn’t looking.
They interacted like two halves.The sun and the moon . . .
No. It couldn’t be them. I’d imagined they’d be identical and much older. At least thirties like we’d all been. I checked my watch. I had a meeting at ten but couldn’t pull myself away from them.
When the woman left, the two boys argued.
“I told you not to do that.” The blond grimaced as he eyed the bill.
“We need the money, and now we have enough. We don’t have to sit here all day.”
“What if she needed it?”
“We need it more.” He pointed to a woman who had set her bags down. “Wait, look. She’s not even paying attention.”
The older woman was too busy wrangling her kids to cross the street to notice one of her grocery bags was about to be snatched by some kid.
“Don’t.”
“Come on? It’s easier than dealing with the cashier.”
Normally, I’d keep walking. What did a couple of kids stealing groceries have to do with me? But I was frozen to the spot on the sidewalk. As if a cord was wrapped around my chest, it pulled me to them.
I had to know.
I strolled up to them with my hands in my pockets, and they froze, their guard instantly up.
“What do you boys think you’re doin’?”
“Why do you care?” The dark-haired one’s tone was harsh, and he pulled on the blond’s sleeve like he was ready to run.
“Because it looks like you’re working my street.”
“You can’t own a street,” the dark-haired one said, more hostile that time. Like he might spit on my shoes.
“I can and I do. See all these buildings lined up here? I’m in charge of all of them in one way or another. I make sure everyone here feels safe, secure. Not taken advantage of.”
“Congratulations on that.”
“We were going.” The blond smiled, clearly using a more agreeable approach.
I snapped my fingers. “Why don’t you boys follow me inside? They’ve got an arcade in here.”
“We don’t talk to strangers.” The dark-haired one smirked.Little brat.
