Page 6 of Stolen for Keeps
“If I do, it’ll be for little Cleo.”
Her expression darkened. “Maya, I told you that story because—no. I don’t want you throwing yourself into something reckless because of me.”
“It’s not because of you. It’s because if anyone deserves help, it’s Cleo. If anyone deserves justice, it’s her.” I was past sure. “I swear to you, Katy. She’ll see her seventh birthday. And many more after that.”
“Maya—”
I hugged her again, silencing whatever argument she was about to make.
Some promises were worth breaking rules for.
I stepped out of the cell.
At processing, they stripped me of my number. Four years,reduced from seven—a mercy, they said. The judge had shown pity, citing my age and my clean record before everything went to hell. The burglary and assault charges against Annamaria stuck. But the assault on a police officer was dropped to a misdemeanor after he considered my dad’s heart attack.
The correction officer shoved a plastic bag into my hands—my so-called belongings. Inside was a worn-out set of clothes that no longer fit, a pair of shoes I barely remembered owning, and a wallet with thirty bucks and an expired ATM card. Everything in that bag was outdated and forgotten. Just like me.
Behind the counter, the guard rifled through a clipboard. “Sign here.”
The pen felt foreign in my hand. It was a stupid thought, but I lingered on it. Four years of following orders, of knowing exactly what came next, and now…nothing. No schedule. No structure. No certainty.
The last door groaned open.
Cold air smacked into me, stark and foreign. My feet stalled at the threshold. Just walk. That’s what they expected. That’s what I had to do.
I shifted the bag in my arms. I had no phone, no money, and no home. I could try a taxi, but I had nowhere to go. Hitchhike? Stupid. Walk? To where? The streets stretched beyond the chain-link fence. I’d been waiting for this moment, and now I didn’t know what to do with it.
Then came a voice.
“Maya!”
I froze. No, it couldn’t be.
I turned just as a blur of color crashed into me, their arms wrapping tightly. The scent of vanilla and something achingly familiar filled my senses.
Sheryn.
My best friend. My sister in everything but blood.
Tears burned my eyes as she held me tight, as though she could glue together the broken pieces of me just by being here.
“I thought…” My throat closed up. I couldn’t finish.
She pulled back, cupping my face, her own eyes glassy. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be here?”
She was supposed to be preparing for a wedding and living her dream. And yet, here she was, standing outside a prison with her arms open, ready to catch me.
I broke.
A sob ripped free as I clung to her, shaking and crying, alive.
“You’re unbelievable!” I wiped my eyes, half-laughing, half-sniffling. “You shouldn’t have! You really shouldn’t have!”
“Shut up, Maya.” Sheryn pulled me in. “I’m here. I’m always here. Now get your ass in the car before you start ugly crying all over my dress.”
I let out a watery chuckle, sliding into the passenger seat. The leather felt too nice. Too… normal.
I glanced at her, taking her in. “You look gorgeous. Being a bride-to-be suits you.”
