Page 23 of Sly Like a Fox
We settle at his dining table, which offers another stunning view of the city.The morning is surreal.I’m sitting in an expensive apartment, eating gourmet food, and planning what amounts to a criminal enterprise with a man I’ve known for less than two weeks.If someone had told me a month ago this would be my life, I’d have laughed myself into a coughing fit.
Fenton cuts into his omelet with surgical precision and then looks across the table at me.“Tell me about your family.Last night you mentioned they didn’t understand your ambitions.”
The question catches me by surprise.Most people don’t ask about my background, probably because they sense it’s not a comfortable topic.Something about the way Fenton asks feels genuinely curious rather than prying.It makes me want to be honest.
I cut a piece of omelet, buying time to organize my thoughts.The eggs are perfect, of course.Everything in this apartment is perfect.“Fox shifter family.Very traditional and conservative about staying under the radar.They believe in small cons, quick scores, and never staying in one place long enough to attract attention.My problem was I always wanted more.”
He pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth.“More money?”
“More everything.More security, more respect, and more direction over my circumstances.”I set down my fork and meet his gaze.“When you grow up never knowing where your next meal is coming from, or whether you’ll have a roof over your head next month, you develop very specific ideas about what constitutes enough.”
He nods with understanding.“Your family saw that as dangerous.”
The old frustration creeps into my voice, surprising me with its intensity.“They saw it as greedy and reckless.Every time I tried to run a longer con or target someone with real money, they’d panic about drawing too much attention from authorities or angry marks.They were content to scrape by forever as long as it meant staying invisible.I wanted to build something that would last.”
His expression grows more attentive.“When did you leave?”
I pick at my fruit, remembering that last argument with my parents.The screaming, the ultimatums, and the way my mother cried when she realized I wasn’t going to back down feel as fresh as they did then.“Eighteen.Right after high school.They gave me an ultimatum to conform to their way of doing things or find my own path, so I found my own path.”
“Any regrets?”The question comes softly, like he understands this might be painful territory.
The question forces me to consider something I usually avoid thinking about.“Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d been less ambitious and more content with their small-scale approach.”I shrug, going for casual even though the topic makes my chest hurt.“Then I remember what it felt like to never have enough and know I made the right choice.”
“Even though it’s been difficult?”His voice carries genuine concern.
I nod as he refills our coffee cups.“I understand that drive for something better than what you started with.”
The admission makes me curious about his own story.“Tell me about before Anklor destroyed everything.What was your family like when things were good?”
His face softens in a way I haven’t seen before.“Normal.Happy.Dad would come home covered in dust and concrete, but he was proud of what he’d accomplished each day.Mom would have dinner ready, and we’d sit around the table talking about school, work, and plans for the weekend.”
“What kind of plans?”
“Camping trips or baseball games sometimes.Dad taught me how to use tools, measure twice and cut once, and take pride in quality work.”Fenton’s voice carries a hint of longing that makes my chest ache.“He used to say building something that would last was the best legacy a man could leave.”
I smile.“It sounds like he succeeded.Look what he built in you.”
The comment seems to surprise him.He sets down his coffee cup and stares at me for a moment.“I never thought of it that way.”
“Your whole mission against Anklor is about building something that lasts, including justice, accountability, and consequences for people who think they’re untouchable.”I lean forward, captured by this glimpse of who he was before grief and vengeance shaped him.“He’d be proud of what you’re doing.”
His expression grows uncertain.“Even though it’s illegal?”
“I think especially because it’s illegal.Sometimes, the system fails people, and someone has to step outside the rules to make things right.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, both lost in our own thoughts.I’m struck by how natural it feels to share breakfast and honest conversation with someone who understands the complicated relationship between survival and ambition.“What happens after Anklor?”The question slips out before I can stop it.“When you’ve gotten justice for your family, what do you do then?”
Fenton considers this seriously, turning his coffee mug in slow circles.“I haven’t thought that far ahead.For three years, this has been my entire focus.”
“Maybe it’s time to start thinking about what comes next.”
He meets my gaze across the table.“Maybe it is.What about you?What happens after you have the financial security you’ve been chasing?”
“I don’t know, either.”The admission feels strange but liberating.“I’ve been so focused on getting enough money to feel safe that I never considered what I’d do once I had it.”
He leans back in his chair, studying me with new interest.“We’re both reaching the end of one phase of our lives.Maybe this partnership is exactly what we both need to figure out what the next phase looks like.”
“A transitional collaboration.”I like the sound of that.
