𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗲

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꒰ 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:·゚

Bianca Prescott was good at a lot of things, but none of them orthodox enough to be considered viable

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Bianca Prescott was good at a lot of things, but none of them orthodox enough to be considered viable. After all, the art of manipulating, scheming, and treachery wasn't really considered a hobby in debutante society.

Bianca would never say it out loud. Especially not today because everyone's so political, but she never really had any desire to have a career. Or a job. She was just interested in doing what she did, just without school and the other bullshit. It wasn't that she didn't have aspirations in life, of course, she did. Or at least, she thought she did.

Bianca truly used to believe that money could buy happiness and whoever said otherwise clearly didn't have enough of it. But this summer had cataclysmically shifted the entire course of her future, showing her that maybe, life wasn't about having all the riches and wealth in the world and she owed it all to the breakfast club of hooligans she'd befriended.

Stupid Pogues, Bianca couldn't help but think to herself, somehow they always found a way to ruin her life.

"So, Bianca," Agent Bratcher drawled, arms clasped behind his back with a tensed stature. "What are you planning to do after school?"

"I don't know," The girl mumbled, feet planted firmly in the muddy ground of the marsh below.

There was a subtle shift in the reeds that lined Shem's creek as it drifted lightly in the breeze. The water was still, broken only by the occasional ripple from a lone insect and gentle breeze. But despite the calm that had settled amongst the shrubbery, Bianca knew it was only a matter of time before the deafening silence would be shattered by bullets and gunpowder.

As they spoke, the Kildare police manned their boats, hiding behind the dense greenery to ambush Rafe Cameron just as they'd planned. SBI officers lined the bank, backs pressed against tree trunks with rifles strapped to their chests. The sight sent a cold chill trickling up the girl's spine, the metal weapons held tightly in their grasp.

Bianca swallowed thickly, hoping that Rafe would go complacently but his words from earlier still rang clear in her mind— "If I go down it'll be over my dead body."

"You know," Bratcher continued tersely, unaware of the thoughts racing through the girl's head. "The force could use someone like you on our team."

Bianca's widened for a fraction of a second before a scoff fell from her lips, "No thanks," She deadpanned humourlessly. "The last thing I want to do is be a part of a corrupt justice system."

After everything she'd seen John B endure— being wrongly convicted for murder, trialed for a crime he didn't commit, and almost sentenced to death— she wanted nothing to do with any of it. They lived in a world where the rich only get richer and the poor have to suffer the consequences, she had witnessed that first hand. Law enforcement was more than willing to arrest a simple dealer, selling drugs to keep his grandmother in hospital than raiding the nice cushy homes of the Kooks where men in black suits like her father sniffed cocaine with hundred-dollar bills.

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