Marcus pulled the bike to a stop so abruptly the tires slid sideways on the icy pavement.
The smallest child—a little girl wrapped in a coat too thin for the weather—was swaying on her feet as if she might collapse.
The woman holding her looked exhausted beyond anything Marcus had seen before, her face pale beneath strands of snow-streaked hair, her eyes wide with the hollow panic of someone who had already pushed past the limits of her strength.
Marcus cut the engine.
The sudden silence made the wind sound even louder.
Without thinking, he swung off the motorcycle, pulled off his leather jacket, and wrapped it around the little girl.
Her tiny hands clutched the sleeves like lifelines.
He looked at the woman.
“Come with me,” he said quietly.
Her name, he would later learn, was Elena Brooks.
