Heirs of Neverhaven

1. Belle

Belle

“Belle, are you almost done?” Greg whispers from above me.

“It’s been ten seconds. I’m about to break world records if I work any faster.”

“I think I hear someone.”

“Shit.” My fingers slip, and I fumble for the lost cord. So much for my magic fingers. “Go look. I’ve almost got this.”

His footsteps echo farther away as my heartbeat thrums with adrenaline.

“It’s probably just a raccoon like last time,” I remind myself with a whisper.

Greg and I have been boosting vintage cars in the alleyways of popular nightclubs for the last two years.

Of course, the trade doesn’t come without its occupational hazards, but for the most part, we’re good at scouting the area, watching the alleyways for weeks before our heists.

We only steal from regulars, people with obviously enough money to afford the loss, and usually keep to a schedule.

And of course own luxury vintage cars. The newer models are impossible to hot-wire, and it’s not worth the risk if it can’t set us up for months to come.

This is our first time boosting at Scurvies—a shit name for a club if you ask me—but even for being a new joint with questionable marketing choices, they seem to be doing pretty well—a packed house every night, which is good for us.

I’ve been eying this beauty for weeks and finally convinced Greg it was time.

It seems like our lucky night that the owner parked in this desolate alleyway, usually reserved for trash and deliveries for the business, sandwiched between tall buildings with the stars above the main source of light.

This guy must have not wanted to deal with public parking, thinks he owns the world, and rightfully deserves his car getting snatched.

Greg is always jittery whenever we’re somewhere new, worried about extra security to protect the club’s budding reputation. He’s probably hearing things.

The car roars to life once I connect the correct wires.

“Yes!” I celebrate. I don’t know how I do this.

No one's ever taught me. Perhaps it’s something my mysterious parents left me with, that and my horrible dental history that required braces not once, but twice. Thank God for state-funded dental care.

A light illuminates my work, and I pop to my feet, my mouth working before turning.

“What the fuck, Greg?” I twirl toward the perpetrator who removed our cover of darkness, expecting to see a greasy-haired brunette with a lip ring, but instead it’s a uniformed police officer, blinding me with his flashlight.

“What’s going on, Miss?” he asks, his tone clear that he already knows.

I think fast. “Oh, officer, I'm so glad you’re here. I’ve been searching for my keys for hours.

” I glance behind the towering man, catching Greg at the end of the alleyway, mouthing sorry before running off.

Fuck him. But I guess I’d do the same thing if he were the one caught.

There’s no point in both of us getting arrested.

I’ve learned early on that it’s best to worry about yourself first.

“This is your car?” the bald man asks, eying me from head to toe.

Tonight I’m wearing a black tube top with matching shorts.

My black knit hat conceals the bright hue of my hair, making me less noticeable.

The ensemble teeters on the edge of an obvious vandal, hiding from quizzical eyes, and a moody girl welcoming the attention but putting up an attitude.

I doubt my outfit choice reflects a wealthy heir driving a vintage car, but I’m convinced that with a little improv, I can convince him otherwise.

“Well, it's actually my father's, and he would kill me if I had to call him for the spare, but I just found them. Thanks for shining your light and making sure I’m safe.” I bat my eyelashes, hoping this guy has a thing for blue-eyed blondes. It’s probably the only time I’ll wish that while in a dark alleyway alone with a man.

His stoic demeanor doesn’t waver. “I’m going to need to see your license and registration.”

Shit. Once he finds out I’m Belle Barnes—owner of a Class C felony title and currently out on probation all at the ripe age of twenty-three, well, it’s back to prison for me. I can’t go back. I need my freedom even if the universe is set on clipping my wings.

Time to think of an escape plan.

I hope my pause wasn’t too drawn out. “No problem, officer. Let me just grab them out of the dash.”

He backs up so I can crawl into the car.

I have to act fast. The minute I hit the leather, I switch the gear into reverse and press the gas, thankful it’s the only car in the dark alley.

The cop yells, scrambling after me. Too bad I’m paying attention to him and not the rearview mirror because I barely make it a hundred feet before I crash, my head bouncing off the headrest as I assault the street light at the corner.

Shit. This is why I bring Greg along. I may have a magic touch, but I’m a shit driver because even with my chosen profession, I’ve never spent much of my life driving a car.

Thank God this isn’t my first rodeo. I don’t delay as I jump out onto the sidewalk and run.

Heavy footsteps sound behind me. I may be small and agile, but this guy will no doubt catch up to me if I don’t think of a diversion.

I turn down a slender alleyway, reaching up and yanking the air.

I don’t know why I do it. Perhaps a nervous tic, but the wires come down, falling to the ground in a buzz.

Talk about good timing. It seems like the universe is in on my escape.

Maybe for the first time in my life, the world will offer me a leg up.

I glance back to catch sight of the wires landing in a puddle at the entrance of the alleyway. The cop stops before a short wall of fire. I laugh in big breaths, walking backward. One day, my luck won’t hold, but it seems that day isn’t today.

I don’t waste time gloating; instead, I race toward the other end of the alleyway, the low light at the exit calling my name. I contemplate my next move as the city becomes clear, the cop calling for backup just a tickle at my eardrums.

I could go back to my shitty apartment, but I run the risk of bumping into Greg, and I’m not in the mood to hear his excuses for why he ditched me.

He’s been my friend and roommate for the last four years.

Technically, we were foster siblings, even though the place that housed us for the last year before aging out felt like anything but home, more like a precursor for my inevitable stint in jail.

We were never close, only holding onto each other’s company as a way to navigate life’s shittiness.

I’ll crash at Charlene’s tonight. She will probably be working late at the diner anyway, so it won’t be too much trouble taking up her couch.

I’m not even out of the alley, not even free of the threat of arrest, and I’m already anxious about what’s to come.

That car was supposed to support Greg and me for the next few months.

We wasted so much time planning this for everything to go to shit.

What do I do now? Get a real job like Charlene?

Perhaps, but then what? Work for minimum wage at dead-end jobs for the rest of my life?

It sounds like more of a prison than jail—like completely shearing my metaphorical wings.

I turn a corner, nearly home free, but run into someone and fall to my ass. I stare up at the bearded man looking down at me from under the street light. He flashes a gappy and golden-toothed grin as he offers me his hand.

It’s obvious he’s not a cop, thank God, one of those will be running after me any second, but exactly what he is—I’m unsure.

I accept his offering, drowning in the scent of spiced rum as he pulls me to my feet, and I’m catapulted into his chest. I step back, taking in his red hat and matching coat, a puffy white and stained shirt tucked into a pair of black pants.

A sword with an antique-looking handle hangs at his side.

I laugh, not completely alarmed by the aid from a pirate, even in the middle of the night. It’s New York City after all. If not him, it could have been a spider-superhero.

I give him a two-finger salute as I back away.

“Thanks, Captain.” I run into something and turn around to find a woman about my size, which is surprising.

It’s rare to find someone just above five feet.

I barely get a good glance at her equally impressive pirate costume before she presses a rag to my mouth.

I cough around the chemical smell, completely aware of what’s going on.

I struggle, but despite her lack of height, she’s much stronger than I am.

My knees give out and I fight the darkness at the edge of my vision, covering more of the world by the second. Someone claps something around my neck. My fingers wrap around the cool metal and I tug, a last-ditch effort for survival before everything fades away.