RIVAL’S POV
Morning didn’t wake me, the Noise of the street did.
Somewhere outside, a truck backfired, making the thin window rattle. Voices followed — loud, fast, overlapping. Vegas didn’t believe in sleeping.
I sat up before I could remember falling asleep at all. My back ached from the couch springs, and the blanket had slid to the floor during the night. Thomas was still there, sprawled in the corner chair like he’d been thrown into it. One arm hung off the side, his head tilted back, mouth slightly open.
It would’ve been funny if I wasn’t already calculating escape routes in case the woman who owned this place decided we weren’t worth the space.
Thomas stirred when I stood, rubbing his eyes. “Morning,” he muttered.
“Barely.” My voice was still rough. “What’s the plan?”
He stret
