MARA
As I step off the bus in Seattle, the cool night air slaps me awake, and the city's relentless energy pulses through my veins.
I wrap my coat tighter, shielding myself from the biting chilly cold. My feet throb from the long journey, and I clutch the crumpled note in my hand like a lifeline.
Well, my life actually depends on it.
The address scrawled on it seems like my only hope in this unfamiliar city. As I look around, a man catches my eye.
He is leaning against a lamppost, his shadow stretching long and thin on the pavement.
He is tall, at least six feet, with a rugged, weathered face and a scar above his left eyebrow.
His eyes are a deep, rough brown, and they seem to hold a thousand secrets.
His hair is dark and unkempt, framing his face with a messy, endearing qual
