wicke | two | fin

Robber girl: a ring for each finger, knife on each hip. When a girl has nothing, her only choice is to take. You learned well from your career training.

"You're making a mistake," a voice says. He can't move from where he sits on the floor, his hands tied to the stairwell. She holds up a wrist full of new bracelets, smiling on the other side of her ski mask.

"Really? Looks all good from where I'm sitting." She gives him a playful wink.

Birth mother was a peacekeeper: kept her pregnancy a secret for as long as possible. Long enough to be in another district when Seryse Warden was born, but new parents, new name, new identity. Wicke: bad girl, matchstick teeth and gunpowder on her fingertips.

The bracelets jingle against one another and: "These'll make fine additions to my collection." She walks over, kisses the boy on the cheek, shoves a matchstick into his mouth, and is gone for nearly three hours before anyone finds him.