The spotless ceiling stared back at Ethan as his mind scrambled for a way out. The covers felt too heavy on his chest. The bed too narrow. The room too small.

  Thankfully, he was alone in the room. Edwin seemed to disappear somewhat often. Ethan didn’t know if he was just going out or if he was sleeping in another room, but he wasn’t complaining about not having to share space with the teen.

  He took a deep breath, and steeled his mind on the matter at hand; what should he do?

  Can I call Paul? No… no time. And even if I could call him, he just came and inspected the group home. He wouldn’t believe me.

  Ethan blinked at the ceiling and for a moment, he felt… isolated. From everything and everyone. What if he just left? What if he got on a bus and moved across the country? What if he moved to Canada?

  He could afford the ticket, he had some little savings. Enough for a bus ride across the border. But he had no passport and getting one of those would take a few days at least.

  And I’d leave this asshole to do whatever the hell he wants. Maybe even accuse me of something without me being able to defend myself.

  Ethan didn’t like that thought.

  I need proof. I need something to show Paul and the cops.

  Speaking of… could he just go talk to a cop?

  He shook his head. No, that would come back to Paul, then to Clariss, and considering the woman was somehow compromised, it could create a mess. But this gave Ethan an idea.

  It’s risky. And it’s not guaranteed it would work.

  Ethan wished he had anyone he could ask advice from. Someone who cared or who could help with something like this, and as he imagined himself asking for help or advice, a face popped up in his mind. For a moment, Ethan felt hope, but he squished that ember down.

  Why would he care? No one would risk getting themselves in trouble like that…

  Ethan’s experience so far with the adults had been that most didn’t really want to involve themselves with him and his issues. Oh they were nice and polite, and they didn’t mind checking in whenever they happened to have a spot in their schedules, but whenever he needed something more, they were quick to pull back and never interact with him again.

  Maybe he’s not like that… he went through all that trouble to set a club for us and find us a trainer.

  Luther seemed to care, but the thought of asking for help to once more be told he was imagining things or just have his problems chucked down the line like a hot-potato was depressing.

  He didn’t want to see that fake look of empathy on another face right before they walked past him and moved on with their days.

  I have no one else.

  Ethan let the ember of hope dance in his chest, and he felt if it was snuffed this time, he might not be able to ignite again.

  Stop being dramatic and get some sleep.

  ***

  Luther cupped his chin for a moment then pushed the chair back and stood up. His office was small, mostly filled with junk and a few framed pictures, but there was enough space for him to pace. “So you want to do these little tasks, and you want me to be a witness so you can nail this supposed mobster you’re sharing a room with, and you can’t go to the cops or tell the responsible of the group home because you think he’s got dirt on her. Is that right? Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

  Ethan took a step back as the man stopped and faced him.

  He swallowed, lips pressed tight. What had he expected? What should he do now? Get on a bus and run? He shouldn’t have—

  “Don’t give me that look, brat,” snapped Luther, instantly dragging Ethan out of his spiraling train of thought. The man rubbed his face then ran a frustrated hand through his shaved scalp. “Jesus Christ, what a mess. You said that Clariss had a husband. You think the kid got dirt on him as well?”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Ethan blinked. “You believe me?”

  Luther sighed, then sat against his desk and brushed his dust off of his jacket. “Yeah. I think so. Look, it all sounds crazy, but you wouldn’t come to me with all of this nonsense if you had any other choice. Plus it sounds like the person you should go to with this crap doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what’s going on. So yeah. I’ll hear you out. Wouldn’t be able to sleep if I ignored this and something ended up happening to you because of it. Stop looking at me like that and let me think for a second.”

  Ethan was completely frozen, still trying to process that someone was taking his problems seriously.

  “Not involving cops is stupid here… but then again, it might all trickle back up in the system, so I’ve got an idea for that. Let me call a couple of friends. When are you supposed to do the delivery?”

  Ethan was supposed to receive a bag in a local coffee shop and deliver it across town to another coffee shop. His plan was to try and see what’s in the bag, and to suss-out who were the people he was dealing with and hopefully, by the third task, he’d have enough dirt on Edwin Davis to get rid of him.

  ***

  While Ethan picked up the first package and delivered it, he was being trailed by Luther’s friend. A private detective.

  Having assumed Ethan was being watched, the expert elected to watch from afar while Ethan went on with the mission, after which he’d go back to school to ‘pick up some books he’d forgotten’ and talk with Luther and his friend about what both of them had found out.

  Unfortunately, Ethan hadn’t been able to peek through the box. It was a standard cardboard parcel in a tote bag, so he couldn’t rip it open without being obvious. Fortunately, that hadn’t been a deal breaker. From trailing Ethan, the private detective, an average middle-aged looking man that went by the name of Brian, already had a couple of theories once they were in Luther’s office.

  “I think this roommate of yours might be dealing with the Strays. A small-time gang that deals in drug-trafficking here and Charlestown.”

  “Shit,” Luther spat. He had a worried look in his eyes, and he shared a look with the detective. “Is that enough to involve the cops?”

  Brian shook his head and Ethan felt like a spectator as the two talked. “No proof. Just a hunch. Plus those packages are most likely empty, but I doubt this will stop after ‘three tasks’. There’ll always be a new excuse to get you to do more, and the more you do for them, the more incriminated you’ll be. Can you try and see what’s in the next delivery? If it’s something illegal, we can go all three to the station and talk to someone.”

  Ethan needed proof. So that’s what they would do.

  ***

  The second delivery was a simple black messenger bag he was supposed to bring to Edwin. Ethan picked up from yet another coffee shop and unhurriedly made his way back home. He kept his pace somewhat slow so Brian could keep an eye on him, but he couldn’t reach into the bag just yet. The streets were busy, and he didn’t know if he was being watched. Thankfully, they had a plan for that.

  Ethan eyed the bus as it came to a stop, then kept his pace even and watched the traffic light. When he saw it was only seconds from turning green, he jogged toward the bus and hopped in, trying to keep his pace somewhat casual. He didn’t look behind him, and instead, he paid for his fare and found a seat in the back.

  No one got in after me. Good.

  Ethan waited for the bus to roll out of the station, and when it did, he took a quick look around and discretely, hidden behind the arm of another chair, he gripped the zipper head and pulled. There was a bit of resistance, then the head slid down. Peering within, he found the bag full of wine corks. Four or five transparent bags full of corks.

  The hell?

  Ethan zipped up the bag and glanced around. No one was staring at him as far as he could tell, so he looked down at the now closed bag once again.

  Wine corks? Is this a test, or are they using them somehow?

  The plan was to check if there was something incriminating in the bag, at which point he was supposed to meet Brian at the next station but if he didn't get off the bus, it meant that there was nothing. That the bag was a dud. The problem was, Ethan didn’t know if it was a dud.

  Shit. What do I do now?

  It was too risky to go with this bag to the station. There was nothing in it, and on the off-chance there was, he couldn’t tell.

  Wait for another opportunity then, like Brian said.

  Ethan got off the bus near his neighborhood, and made his way up to the group home, then to his room with the suspicious bag over his shoulder. After washing his feet and putting on his slippers, he climbed up the stairs and found himself staring at the door.

  He raised a hand, pursed his lips, then knocked. It was better to act compliant for now and get some dirt on his target. Still, he hated it. There was no response, so he opened the door and walked in.

  The teen was sitting at the edge of his bed, typing on his smart-phone, and Ethan put down the bag at his feet and sat on his bed.

  “Good work. One more job and you’re through,” said Edwin without looking up. He continued typing for a moment, then reached down and picked up the bag. Putting down the phone, he slowly and smoothly zipped the bag open, staring into it, then pulled one of the cork-bags and turned it over in his hand thoughtfully. A smile drew itself on his lips, and he looked up and met Ethan’s gaze.

  Ethan suppressed the desire to punch him.

  “Stay around tomorrow or the day after. I don’t have an exact time for the task, but once you’re done with it, we’re through. Have you decided whether you want your own room or if you want Clariss to put in a good word?”

  “I’d like to leave.”

  Edwin nodded, throwing the bag up before catching. “Deal.”

  Click here to join

  If you want to support me and read ahead, there's 10 advanced chapters.