She had grown up hearing stories about men like that.
Men who didn’t follow rules.
Men who didn’t care about consequences.
Men who could destroy your life without even thinking about it.
Lena didn’t know who they were, but she didn’t need to. The town had a language of its own, and leather vests with patches were a dialect everyone understood.
Still, she couldn’t turn around. She couldn’t drive away. She couldn’t let Mila keep crying like that.
So she parked her car, took a deep breath that felt like swallowing broken glass, and lifted her daughter out of the back seat.
Mila’s face was red. Her tiny fists clenched and unclenched like she was fighting the air itself. Her eyes were wet and furious, and Lena pressed her cheek against Mila’s forehead.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, though it wasn’t. “Mama’s got you. I promise.”
She didn’t know why she said promise.
