There was no way in hell you were getting caught by the cops again. No foster care, no group home—none of it. You’d rather stay homeless, free, and always on the move than be caged up like that.

As you rummaged through a dumpster, sifting through rotting trash for anything useful, a sharp sound broke your focus—someone clearing their throat.

Your head snapped around, heart already hammering. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood behind you, his presence commanding and intimidating.

Oh, shit. Your muscles tensed, ready to bolt. Your eyes widened as panic surged through your veins.

“Whoa, whoa, hey! Calm down,” the man said, raising his hands in a placating gesture.