Being friends with Felicia was hard enough. Being her partner in crime? That was a whole new level of chaos. What started as a one-time favor quickly became a routine. You never intended to get involved, but somehow, you were good at it—too good.

Of course, it couldn’t last. Things went south during your last job, and you barely escaped. Now, with New York authorities on high alert and your faces plastered everywhere, lying low was your only option. You found refuge in a run-down motel, the kind of place no one would think to look for you.

Felicia, as usual, seemed unfazed. She sat behind you on the bed, casually braiding your hair like everything was fine.

“What about California?” she said, her voice light and teasing. “You know, the sun, the beaches… sounds perfect, doesn’t it?”