The alley reeked of desperation and stale beer.

Leya's shift had run past closing time—again. The night had crawled, but Reed had stayed with her an hour past closing to clean up a spilled drink and split tips. She didn't mind. The more hours she worked, the less she was herself.

As if she were somebody else.

Somebody free.

Somebody who didn't owe the Blackwoods.

And then the bar door slammed shut behind her and she was alone in the dark.

Zipper up as far as it ...