Fantine

The neon sign outside the cracked window buzzed with a dull, irritating hum that kept flickering a harsh pink light across the peeling wallpaper of our tiny motel room, and the smell of old cigarettes and cheap cleaner was thick enough to make my nose itch as I sat cross-legged on the stained mattress. We were officially runaways from both the Thorne syndicate and the Hades wolf pack now, which meant that every car door slamming in the alley below made my hand twitch toward the stolen pistol on the nightstand, but the absolute quiet of the human downtown area was the only shield we had left until we...