Page 43 of A Thief to Die For

Okay, what am I missing?

Aside from the common sense to not raid tonight, mere hours after being left in charge of Notting.

After changing, I fold the pieces, then shove them in my pack. As usual, a nervousness hums below my skin, radiating from my bones. The inescapable fear of getting caught, rearing its head.

Call it off. The risk is too great to continue. What’s the end goal, anyway? Am I going to do this for the rest of Atlas’s life?

I brace a hand on the wall and breathe, but it feels like I’m trapped underwater.

What if I did quit? Maybe I’ve done enough.

My chest loosens for a split second, until I remember I’ve been given a gift of Atlas and Coatl being gone. Are you really going to waste that?

I groan. Plus, it’s collection day. A simple operation. Just slip into the trailer and dump stuff in the ditch before it’s tagged and locked away at the warehouse.

Simple. But not easy.

It’s never easy.

The anxious burn behind my sternum returns as I open the window with a creak. I cringe. Normally I don’t care who sees me enter or exit this way. Tonight is different.

There’s something sitting on the outside ledge – a single red wildflower. I hold it to my nose and inhale, wondering how a raven carried it all this way.

Ryland picked me wildflowers I said to Atlas in the High Command.

Wait. Ryland wouldn’t have …

My stomach swoops at the possibility that it was Ryland who gifted me this. I bite my lip. Nobody’s ever done something so thoughtful.

Well … except Benedict, who I see has taken the berries I left this morning and brought me an old-world coin. I pick up the perfect circle of silver metal and examine the profile of the man embossed on one side. A worthless relic, but a collectable nonetheless.

‘Heads and I have a safe night raiding.’ I toss and catch the coin but pause before looking. Do I really need another reason not to raid? Instead, I shove it in my pocket, hoping it brings me luck.

Something tells me I’m going to need it.

Iwatch from a safe distance, tucked behind a log Dresden home, as Soren and Petronis run collections tonight. It’s good to watch. It gives me a sense of what’s being put on the trailer and where, which helps me to work faster during my raid.

A tickle goes up my spine as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It feels like I’m being watched, so I crouch lower. Shrink deeper into my hood. But after scanning the tree line, the darkness gives nothing away.

‘Please,’ a Dresden woman begs, reaching for Soren’s hand. He jerks back in disgust, and she drops to her knees before the collections table. Her head is wrapped in a faded scarf and her sharp face carries both desperation and deep fatigue. ‘Give me another week.’

‘Time’s up,’ Soren says, while writing in the ledger. ‘You’ve underpaid for over a month. You owe too much.’

‘It’s the mine.’ Her voice rises with anger. ‘I can’t lift –’

He peers behind her. ‘Next,’ he growls, just like the wolf he is – him and Petronis.

‘Wait!’ She grips the table. ‘W-what if I work as a laundress? The Commander hires people for that. Or I could farm his animals. Do the cleaning?’

‘Those positions aren’t for asylum seekers with bad joints.’ Soren’s lip curls. ‘And you stink. If you can’t rinse yourself off once in a while, you’re not qualified to work a mop. You’ll be escorted out of Notting territory at sunrise.’

‘No, please,’ she cries, then whirls around, facing her fellow Dresden. ‘You all know this is a death sentence. Help me.’

My head drops as silence fills the air, and my stomach turns. Exiles have become rare since I’ve started raiding. But every time it happens, it feels like we’ve failed. Like I’ve failed. I search the crowd for Brother Thomas and find him standing not far off, his face tense. I don’t understand. Was there nothing left we could have given to her?

‘You miserable rats,’ she spits, but not at the guardsmen. ‘May you all burn in hellfire.’

Her anger hangs in the air, thick and venomous, and Brother Thomas’s words from years ago come back to me.