Ai's POV

I stare after Jax as he approaches the entrance. Some of the more alert humans, hanging out in the open door-way, get to their feet. Pupils burning big and black as he passes through, eyeing his collection of post-shift tech and heavy artillery strapped to him in various places. Out here enforcers are usually tolerated, if not respected, due to the many superior weapons they carry. It's also the reason they need warrants to enter viper owned night-clubs.

I wait a while, before scouring the interior for another key. There's typically an emergency set in the side panels, if you know where to look. I find it, tucked away on the driver side. It doesn't take long to re-activate everything, including the locks, and scramble out of the passenger door. The loiterers have already retreated inside but I duck down anyway, checking for passing traffic.

I'm just about to make a break for the club when a sleek, black limousine pulls up, slowing not stopping. The door opens as it moves, rear-side – closest to the club entrance so I can't see inside, or who or what gets out – and then slams shut, as the limo drives off.

I peer over the hood of the cracker, not quite ready to leave it behind. Someone is crumbled. In a heap. On the floor. Right outside the club.

After several seconds of me freezing my butt from behind the cab, wondering if should make a move or go back inside, the person gets up. It's a boy, about 17 or 18, no older than me.

I spy on him shamelessly as he dusts off his brown skin, like he's wearing a nice shirt he doesn't want dirty – though, he's so not wearing anything! In its place, one-side of his bare upper torso (all well and nicely toned, I might add) is intricately traced with tattoos. At least he's wearing a pair of jeans, ripped jeans, though not much else. He doesn't even have shoes on.

The glow from the door lamps hits him just right, and finally I see his face. His hair is dark, streaked with a pure white stripe.

I can't say I see his eyes, but I don't need to.

I know a wildcard when I see one.

Sometimes EVes are born from non-evolved parents out in the wild. But they are super rare, with an extremely high blood potential to match. And without the proper screenings and genetic purification techniques of the rich and elect, wild EVes always have secondary tell-tale phenotypic traits, other than heterochromia.

Like white streaks of hair.

The boy frowns, leaning against the doorway, eyes searching out across the lot, coming my way. I bob down a little, though he can't see me in the dark, not out here. The cab deactivated as soon as I got out so every surface is carbon-black and non-reflecting. I'm as a good as a shadow.

His gaze sweeps the lot again and then towards the interior, once, and then pats his jean pocket. Taking out a pack of something that looks like a elongated cigar case. He takes one out, whatever is inside. Something long and thin. It's not a cigar, it's a needle.

He takes a match, lights the end and flames the contents of the syringe. Then stabs his neck with it, wincing. Dropping it empty to the ground, massaging the area where he injected himself. Dazed for a moment he leans heavily on the wall, head hanging. Slipping the case away with one hand, and from the other pocket, pulling out a pink cap. He puts it on, tucking his shock of white hair under it, hidden.

I blink in surprise. A pink cap? Pink?

I have no problem with boys who like and wear pink, none at all. But this one has a unicorn prancing on the front of it.

If the back has stitching in white saying 'Unicorns Have Rare Blood Too', and the peak is stained where it fell off and landed in the lake – then I know that cap. Know who it belongs to, anyway.

I wait for him to disappear inside, then follow quickly. I keep my head down, shielding my own eyes, since I'm just as valuable as the wildcard, if not more. The door is unguarded so I enter almost too easily.

Music, the loudest wave of it, rises up out of nowhere, tearing at my ears. It must be an industrial damper - expensive tech for an Outside club. Why though, when we're in the middle of nowhere?

Who is going to complain?

The place is packed, deep with bodies. Some notice me, others are totally oblivious, lost and caught up in their own Eden. I follow the boy, the back of him, winding left and right, as though stalking a stag on a battlefield.

I'm too busy to notice Jax.

Not until he grabs me, with both arms, hauling me off. We hit the bar and he pulls me through a gap to stand beside him. Both of us now are hugging the wall. I'm slick with humidity and Jax, wearing twice what I am, is the hardly breaking a sweat.

I glare at him. And glance back.

But the boy and that cap are gone.

***

Author's Note -

[Image credit - The luscious Ben Bowers. Please know he's not my first cast choice . That goes to Lawrence Coke. I just couldn't find an image of Lawrence holding a flame without a shirt on. Trust me i looked ;)]

Thank you for all the lovely subscribes, comments, and all the likes! You all rock!

Hope you liked this chapter! ^^

Are you liking the new boy? ♂

Can't wait to reveal him. It's killing me to drag this out... well only a little ;)

p.s. if you are enjoying the story please don't forget to like! ♡♡♡

Lis x