Two police officers with handguns and their eyes on me.

I broke into a sprint, tossing the near-empty can of paint into the nearest trash can, and bolted down a slim alleyway. I slipped between two buildings, leaped on top of a garbage dumpster, and prepared to launch myself across the fence when a baton landed on my ankle. The sound of crushing bones filled my ears.

Fuck. This is it.

“Little fucking punk. You the guy we been lookin’ for?”

I didn’t say a word, training my eyes on the ground as they handcuffed me and ducked me into the back of a cop car. My eyes were fixed on the water-streaked windows outside, and my heart sank when the cops started the engine and turned toward uptown.

I’d been tagging walls obsessively for the last few nights around the park, but off Fifth too. I’d spent some time in the East Village and Washington Square, but tonight was my riskiest move. Tonight, I’d tackled Wall Street.

Wall Street…my dad… All the excess it’d come to represent had culminated in my attempt to tag a window of the New York Stock Exchange—an amateur move.

By the time we reached the station, and I was tagged and booked and offered my first call, I did the only thing I could think to do. I called the woman who’d been there for me through everything.

Mom.

But she didn’t answer, and the officer cackled when I passed the phone back through the window. Then, I waited, annoyed at myself most of all. I curled up with the thin wool blanket, my head on the painted concrete bench, and planned my next move.

A cold voice rattled me from my sleep. “Brooks.”

“Yeah?” I shot up, instantly on alert, when I realized I was still behind bars. From Park Avenue prince to criminal.

“Someone made bail. You’re out for tonight. Don’t miss your hearing tomorrow morning, or your ass will be right back with me tomorrow night.”

I huffed, nailing him with a glare when the door swung wide, and he swept his fat arm to his side to gesture me out.

“Nothing but a rich little punk,” he gritted as I passed him.

“I’m not rich,” I seethed, my fist twitching with the need to show him how wrong he was. I pushed open the bulletproof doors and found myself at the front of the station.

“Elis?” I heard her voice before I saw her.

“Devlynn?” My eyes cast around until I found her. Drops of rain soaked her hair and made it cling to her shoulders like a drowned rat. She held her wet coat in her arms, her lips pressed together as she watched me with a concerned gaze.

“Are you okay?” She launched herself at me, and I had no choice but to hold her in my arms.

“I’m fine. Why are you here?”