Good Mobsters, Good Monsters

Paige

I climbed the stairs back up to my second-floor room feeling completely full for the first time since—maybe since I’d been kidnapped. Two muffins, a cheesesteak, and an order of onion rings. That was what it took now.

Well, most of an order of onion rings. That foreign smile crawled back across my face, stretching unused muscles back into shape. As much as I could hit him sometimes, as furious as I was that he’d woken me up like he did, having Tom steal an onion ring felt so dizzyingly normal I couldn’t help but smile. He was obviously a multimillionaire. Another serving of cheesesteak and onion rings couldn’t possibly put him in the red. But he hadn’t gotten his own, and he’d refused when I’d first offered to share. So then he’d resorted to stealing. It was almost funny, like something that would happen in a high school lunchroom rather than the back of a mobster’s SUV.

I turned into my room and shut the door behind me. Standing up long enough for another shower sounded exhaus