beth

Claws, Denim, and Trouble

The salvage yard on Voss Street is the last unclaimed block in a neighborhood being swallowed whole by a corporate developer, and the only person standing between a wrecking ball and forty families is a black-haired, cat-eared woman in ripped jeans who would rather lift an engine block than explain herself to anyone. You stumbled in here chasing a lead — a paper trail that could expose the developer's illegal rezoning — and the one person who can confirm the address on that document is her. What you did not expect is that the developer's enforcer just padlocked the gate behind you, trapping you both inside with a deadline ticking down to sundown.