“Get on the ground!” shouts the cop who’s crouched behind the booth across the way. The red-gold light of the sunset makes it hard to pick out details, but I recognize that mop of hair immediately. One of his eyes is sporting a purple beauty of a bruise, and dried blood is still crusted beneath his nose. Ginger. He’s so tense that his gun is shaking. That only makes the situation more unstable.

I sweep my gaze left and right, counting. Three. Four. Five. More than enough cops to take me in. Probably more of them under the boardwalk, too, waiting to cut off any escape attempt I might make.

I swallow and raise my hand, opening my mouth to shout that I’ve got a mirror. But before I can speak, a blur of movement flashes in the corner of my eye, and something knocks my legs out from under me. I fall hard onto my stomach. The mirror bounces out of my grip. Everything else forgotten, I squeeze my eyes shut and whip my head away from it, my heart hammering. I can’t look at the mirror. Please, God, I pray, let no one else look at it either.

No one screams.

I dare to crack an eye open. No mirror in sight. We’re only a few yards from the edge of the boardwalk—it must’ve sailed over the edge, unseen.

I blow out a breath. No Being. But no leverage now, either.

Elliott’s got one knee on my back, pinning me facedown to the boardwalk. He’s the one who swept my feet out from under me a moment ago. “Cuffs,” he demands now, still ice-cold calm, not even looking at Ginger as he tosses out the order.

My racing heartbeat pauses as I take in his tone. My eyes narrow. That doesn’t sound like a snitch trying to make a deal with a cop. That sounds like he’s … what, one of them? But he’s too young to be a cop. He’s eighteen at most, and the mayor set the age limit to join at twenty-one.

“Get on the ground,” Ginger repeats at a shout.

“He’s on the ground,” Elliott snaps.

“Not him,” Ginger replies, raising up out of his crouch and advancing on us, gun still held out in front of him. “You.”

Elliott goes still, finally looks up. “You can’t be serious.”

His disbelieving tone doesn’t make sense. He punched a cop earlier today, and now he’s surprised that cop wants to arrest him? And even if he means to rat me out, he’s got to know that the mayor tosses snitches onto the bridge just as frequently as the dealers they help catch. Anyone who breaks the law against participating in a mirror deal is liable to exile.