She sat there for a moment, gazing off into the night before slowly nodding her head and looking back him. “You and me.”

He smiled at her and it was returned before they looked back up into the black-lit sky and waited for Ashley to show up.

Midnight on Sunset in Hollywood was the wrong place for a teenager to be. Drunken homeless people staggered down the street, avoiding the darkened alleyways for fear of getting mugged. Gangsters and thugs rolled around in their cars, blaring music and looking positively menacing.

Gideon sat in the passenger’s seat of the Ford Explorer with a pump action shotgun lying across his lap while Dano drove, her Berretta tucked into the back of her jeans. Ashley sat in the back seat, quietly observing the moral decay as she passed it by. Women of the night lined the streets, all looking for that Richard Gere who would sweep them up in a torrent of love and wealth like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. They didn’t want to be there, working the corner to pay for an addiction, for food, for their protection, but they remained, beckoning with self-painted fingernails and fishnet stockings.

Neither of the Bearclaw’s said much to her when she arrived at their house in a taxi at their insistence. Their silence was part of a punishment; breaking off a mode of connection between them temporarily and making it harder for Ashley to explain herself. Not that she really could have if she had the chance. This was why she really hated pissing them off; they knew too well how to punish her effectively.

“Park over there.” Gideon said as he pointed to a side street.

Daniella made a right and parked in the driveway of a duplex. “This looks familiar.”

“It’s Boz’s older brother’s place. The car will be fine here.” He explained, placing the shotgun under his chair and putting an old sweatshirt over the protruding end of it. “You ready?”

His question was directed towards Ashley and she knew it. Dano was always ready, quick on her feet, prepared to do anything at anytime; the experienced soldier who knew what she was doing. She on the other hand was the grunt, the rookie, the inexperienced one who had to be asked like a child whether or not she was ready to get on the swing and be pushed to her limit. “Yeah.”