Page 258 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

But he couldn’t stand there all day.

Kids jumped off the bus, sprawling over the footpath. Bailey waited until the last moment, then with his head down, he moved against the flow and up the stairs. The driver shut the door behind him, and Bailey slumped into a seat.

Now he had to figure out where he was going.

Three stops later, two cops got on.

Bailey slid down the seat and tried to melt into the fabric, but he was a leopard, not a chameleon. One cop spoke to the bus driver, the other walked over to him. “Bailey Fisher, we’d like to have a few words. Would you mind getting off the bus?”

Yes, he minded.

God knew he’d been breaking the law for Gran and her friends since he was fourteen. Three years of picking pockets in supermarkets and a year of going out underage and drinking and stealing credit cards.

If he ran, he’d be on a wanted list. Could he talk his way out of it? Or spill the truth?

He remained frozen, not knowing what to do, but knowing every choice was bad.

The bus driver coughed.

Bailey picked his bag up and stood. If he threw the bag and ran, how far would he get?

“Don’t do anything stupid, son.”

Bailey looked up at the cop. He was only a few years older. He wanted to be a law-abiding citizen, so he needed to act like one. He followed the cops off the bus, dread growing with every step. The bus doors slammed shut, and it took off, leaving him stranded on the footpath.

“I’m not wagging school, it’s exams.” His voice came out squeaky as his ribs constricted.

“It’s not about school,” said the older one.

“Gran, is she okay?” Of course she was, she’d probably tipped off the men, but a normal kid would be worried about his family. And he wanted to be normal. He wished he had a family like Matt’s. People who honestly cared. Did Kass care about him or was it all the bond and worry about his own life? He spent so much time living second hand through the connection, getting off, that he wasn’t sure what of it was real and what was in his imagination.

Even yesterday’s brush with death no longer seemed real. He should’ve kept his fat mouth closed.

The cop frowned. “Your Gran’s fine.”

He was too hot. Sweat trickled over his ribs. He wouldn’t talk first. They could explain why they were there. He looked at one then the other, wondering if he ran, could he become lost well enough that they wouldn’t find him? How long until his cash ran out?

He swallowed and tried to slow his heart, so it didn’t explode from the super shot of adrenaline flooding him. His skin prickled with the urge to shift—and while it would be harder to catch him on four feet, he doubted a snow leopard running around the suburbs would go unnoticed.

“We’d like to talk to you about some recent thefts,” the young one said.

“I don’t understand.” His old fall back was to always play dumb and let others do the talking.

“You go to nightclubs, yeah?”

Bailey shrugged, but he knew where this was going, and it was nowhere good.

“We have footage of you taking some wallets.”

Bailey took a few slow breaths. They had him on camera, and no doubt it was from after he’d turned eighteen, so he’d be tried as an adult. If the men were willing to throw him to the wolves, he’d do the fucking same. After all, the cops only wanted the truth, and he was a minnow in the grand scheme.

He nodded. “I had to. There're some men where I live. If I didn’t, they were going to hurt my Gran—she’s all I have.” Which left him with a handful of nothing.

They stared at him. So, technically he’d confessed. But this wasn’t being recorded, so it wasn’t official. At least he hoped it wasn’t.

“Can you come to the station and give us a statement?”

“Am I under arrest?” His skin prickled and blotches formed on his arms and chest.

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