Chapter Eight
She was twelve. She’d been on the streets a few months at that point. It wasn’t her first time, but it was the first since deciding that she would never go back to another orphanage or foster home. It was her first time since deciding that this would be the rest of her life.
That realization added an extra sense of urgency. Sam wasn’t just biding her time until it got cold or the cops picked her up or she got hungry. This was it. She needed to find a way to stay warm. A way to eat. A way to survive.
One of the boys she’d met at the last group home was on and off the streets for years. He knew his way around. He’d told her the only way to survive long-term was to join up with a group. There were all kinds of groups—gangs, packs, some that considered themselves families even
