GOT CAUGHT

    With my hands in my coat pockets, I calmly walked around the six men sprawled on the ground. Minho followed behind, his breathing still ragged. Poor guy had been buried alive for an hour; I knew exactly how he felt. I'd experienced it myself once.

After Barton bailed me out from prison when I was ten years old, the gang I had stolen from found me and forced me into a coffin just like Minho's. I guess it was a common way to threaten or kill someone without too much of a hassle. Fortunately, I was only buried for twenty minutes. Thanks to Barton, he saved me before it was too late. He wasn't always the fat and drunk person he is now; I remember him being fit and quick on his feet, able to defend himself easily.

"This is where we part ways," I said, exiting the building through the front entrance. "Don't let them get near you again."

"I won't… but who are you?" Minho asked, curiosity and gratitude mingling in his eyes. "Why did you help me?"