A chill went through her. It was one thing when Mac had told the Cirkus Freaks that Ash was responsible for Roman’s murder. But now he had the whole city looking for him.

“You certainly picked a good time to disappear,” Dorothy muttered, swallowing. If Ash hadn’t died in the boat last night, she hoped he had the sense to stay gone. If he stepped foot in New Seattle, he’d be dead within the week.

Feeling a sudden rush of anger, she tore the flyer off the wall, balled it up, and let it drop into the waters below. It wouldn’t help, these flyers were everywhere, but she felt some small measure of relief as she watched the ink on the poster bleed, the paper grow soggy. One down, she thought. Yanking her hood up over her head, she tried to blend in with the other people on the docks.

She kept her head bent, walking without stopping to think about where, exactly, she planned to go. Every time she thought about those posters, fresh rage bubbled up inside of her. Mac couldn’t do this; he couldn’t use his lies to turn an entire city against Ash. She wouldn’t let him. She had to do something. She had to stop this.

But what?

She was helpless. Powerless. Friendless, moneyless.

Oh, how she hated that feeling.

After ten minutes of aimless wandering, she realized she’d unintentionally landed on a destination. In this entire city, she knew of only one place where they wouldn’t throw her out immediately.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and headed there now.

Dorothy hid behind a white-trunked tree. Waiting.

Zora was the first to leave. Dorothy watched from her hiding place as Zora pushed a window open and climbed onto the rocking docks below.

She looks terrible, Dorothy thought. Purple circles colored the skin below Zora’s eyes, and there was a sickly gray cast to her dark brown skin. She seemed to be muttering something under her breath, an energy bar clutched between her teeth as she hurriedly pulled her black braids into a quick and untidy bun at the base of her neck.

She didn’t even glance Dorothy’s way but climbed onto her Jet Ski. A roaring sound filled the morning air as she switched on the engine. And then she was gone, an arc of black water spraying the air in her wake.

Willis climbed out the window not three minutes after Zora had left, his eyes moving back and forth, skittishly, as he checked the docks for people. Dorothy frowned. He looked . . . furtive. Like he was doing something he really shouldn’t be doing. Like he didn’t want to be caught.

Head ducked, he quickly moved down the docks, toward Dante’s.