Liora’s POV
The black car moved through the streets like a silent shark… Inside, it was so quiet I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. I sat as far away from Xavier as possible, my wet uniform sticking to the expensive leather. I felt like a stain…A dirty, wet stain in a world made of polished things.
"We’re here," Xavier said
I looked out the window. My apartment building looked worse than usual in the rain. The brick was dark and slimy, and the streetlights were flickering. This was the place I’d called home for three years. It wasn't much, but it was mine. Or I thought it was.
The car didn't pull into the small parking lot. It just stopped at the curb, right in front of the main entrance. The rain was a dull roar against the roof. It sounded like a drumbeat, steady and heavy.
"I need to go up," I said. My voice was raspy. "I need to get my things. I have some books... my mom’s stuff."
Xavier didn't move. He didn't even look at me. He was looking at a tablet in his hand. "I don't think that will be necessary, Liora."
"What do you mean? I can't just leave with nothing. I need my clothes."
"Look out the window," he said.
I leaned closer to the glass. At first, I didn't see it. Then, the light from the lobby caught something on the sidewalk. Black plastic.
There were three trash bags sitting by the door. They were slumped over like dead bodies. Water was pooling around them. Next to the bags stood Mr. Henderson, the landlord. He was holding a large black umbrella, looking at his watch. He looked annoyed.
I felt a cold spike of panic. I pushed the door handle, but it didn't budge. "Let me out. Xavier, let me out!"
He tapped a button on the armrest, and the locks clicked. I didn't wait. I threw the door open and ran into the rain.
The cold hit me like a physical punch. I stumbled across the sidewalk, my shoes splashing in the deep puddles. I reached the bags first. One was ripped at the top. I saw the corner of my favorite sweater…the blue one with the hole in the sleeve. It was soaking wet.
"Mr. Henderson!" I shouted. "What is this? What are you doing?"
The landlord looked at me. He didn't look sorry. He looked like he was looking at a cockroach. "I told you last week, Hayes. No pay, no stay. I’ve got a couple moving into 3B tomorrow morning. I needed the place cleared tonight."
"But my deposit—"
"Your deposit didn't even cover the back rent and the cleaning fee," he snapped. He reached down and picked up one small, heavy black bag that wasn't like the others. It was tied tight. He shoved it toward my chest.
"Here. I found this under the bed.i put in some clothes and stuff in their too,The rest of the junk goes to the dump in an hour."
I clutched the bag. It was my father’s old satchel. I could feel the hard edges of his notebook inside. My heart hammered against my ribs. "You can't do this. I’ve been here three years! I always paid! I just had a bad month because of the hospital—"
"Everyone has a bad month," Henderson said. He looked past me at the massive black car idling at the curb. I saw his eyes widen. He saw the tinted windows. He saw the sheer wealth of the thing. "Looks like you found a new way to pay your bills, anyway. You’re moving up. Don't come back here."
"I need to go inside," I whispered. I tried to push past him toward the door. I felt my dads notebook to the bag “Can’t I just pack a few more things” I pleaded
"I told you, I cleared it out!" He stepped in my way, his face turning red. "The locks are changed, Liora. Move on. You're a week late. You're trespassing now."
"Please," I begged. I felt small. I felt like the rain was washing me away. I looked at the trash bags on the ground.
My mother’s jazz records were in there. Her old teacher’s manuals. My childhood photos. They were sitting in the gutter, getting ruined.
Henderson didn't even look me in the eye. He just turned around and walked back into the lobby, letting the heavy glass door slam shut. I heard the lock click.
I stood there. The rain was coming down so hard I could barely see. I looked at the black bag in my arms. It was all I had left. Everything else…every memory, every comfort…was in a trash bag on a wet sidewalk.
I felt a weird urge to laugh. It was a messy even ugly thought. I’m a Volkov asset now, I thought. And I don't even have a toothbrush. I looked at the trash bags again. I wanted to rip them open. I wanted to scream at the windows. I wanted to be the girl I was four hours ago, even if that girl was broke and tired. At least that girl had a room. At least that girl had a name that wasn't followed by a dollar sign.
I looked at the car.
The headlights were bright, cutting through the dark. It looked like a monster waiting to eat me. Xavier was in there. He was probably watching the clock. He didn't care about my mom’s books. He didn't care about my blue sweater. To him, I was just a delivery that was running late.
I looked at the satchel in my hands. I’d almost lost the notebook.
If Henderson hadn't been so lazy, he would have thrown this out, too. My father’s notes. The only thing that made me feel like I belonged to someone.
I walked back to the car. My legs felt like they were made of lead. Every step was a struggle. I reached the door, and it opened automatically. The warmth from the interior hit me, but it didn't feel good. It felt like a trap.
I got in. I clutched the black bag to my chest like a shield.
"Did you get what you needed?" Xavier asked. His voice was casual. Like we’d just stopped for coffee.
"He threw my life in the trash," I said. I was shivering so hard my teeth were clicking.
"Most of it was junk, Liora. You won't need it where you're going. Mr. Volkov provides everything."
"It wasn't junk to me."
Xavier didn't answer. He just tapped the partition. "Let’s go. We’re behind schedule."
The car pulled away from the curb. I looked out the back window. I saw the black trash bags getting smaller and smaller. I saw the puddle of dirty water soaking into my mother’s things.
I realized then that I was truly homeless. I had no keys in my pocket. I had no address. I was just a girl in a wet uniform, sitting in a car that cost more than I’d ever earn.
I looked at Xavier. He was back on his tablet. He looked so bored.
"Where are we going?" I asked. My voice sounded dead. Even to me.
"The Luminaire building," he said. "Darian is waiting. And Liora?"
I looked at him.
"Don't mention the apartment. He doesn't like hearing about slums.It puts him in a bad mood."
I didn't say anything. I just turned my head and looked at the dark city.
I felt a contradiction in my chest. I was relieved my mom was safe, but I hated that I was here. I hated Darian Volkov. I hadn't even met him properly yet, and I hated him for being the only thing left in the world that would take me in.
I thought about the hospital. I thought about the lady at the billing desk. Your poverty is killing her, she’d said.
Well, my poverty was dead now. It was sitting in a trash bag on a curb.
The car turned onto the main highway. The skyscrapers of the city center started to loom over us. They were made of glass and light, looking down at the rest of us like we didn't matter.
I gripped my father’s satchel tighter.
I was going into the lion’s den. I had no armor. I had no weapons. I just had a wet uniform and a broken heart.
I wondered if Darian Volkov knew what he was buying. He thought he was buying a ghost. He thought he was buying someone who would just stay quiet and do what she was told.
He was wrong.
I looked at my reflection in the tinted glass. My eyes were red, but they were sharp. I wasn't just going to survive this.
I was going to make him regret the day he ever looked at my file.
