Beatrice.
The fountain was louder than I expected.
Water cascaded over weathered stone, drowning out the sounds of Casco Viejo's afternoon traffic. I sat on the curved edge, hands clasped in my lap to stop them from shaking, and watched tourists pose for photos while children chased pigeons across the cobblestones.
Normal people doing normal things.
I didn't feel normal. I felt like a wire pulled too tight, ready to snap.
My phone showed 12:03 PM. Three minutes past the meeting time Nathaniel had suggested. I'd arrived early, scanned every face in the plaza, found no one who looked like the boy I remembered.
But someone was watching. I could feel it like a hand on the back of my neck.
He's watching. He wants to make sure you're alone.
The text had come ten minutes ago, right as I'd
