SEN

othe Zoe after yesterday's trauma with the fake doct

touched Zoe's lips. She tugged my hand, pointing a small finger

and from a little girl in a pink dress, pulling herself onto the fir

apture the moment, a figure i

ma

baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He wasn't on his phone. He wasn't talking. He was just standing

ng him a bottle of water. The man in the suit seemed to notice my attent

a split second, his gaze, hidden in the shadows

unnerving, focused intensity. My hea

. Zoe was encouraged by the other kids and was now attempting t

ound below was covered in thick safety

y older boy shot down a nearby slide, slamming viole

e frame s

Her foot slipped. Her sma

she

cream tore from my throat

ng crawl as I watched her small body arc through the air, heading not

ckening sound of impact, a

he man in the

speed. In a single, fluid motion-a s

to absorb the brutal impact as they rolled across the ground, tuckin

knees weak and shaking, the sight

his muscular arms. She wasn't crying. She was jus

cape of sharp, aristocratic angles, and a faint, pale scar cut through one o

low, magnetic, and completely grounding. "Y

And slowly, miraculous

pped to my knees, my ha

voice calm and even. He stood up, towering over me like a protective wall. H

in the tailored suit rushed over, handing him a ringing phone. Th

t and stood up to ask for his name, he

ight. Her little hand was fisted in my

a voice I hadn't heard in six ag

pret