The rain didn’t stop. It beat down in sheets, turning the alleys into rivers and the night into a blur of silver knives.
Lucien shoved open a rusted door behind an abandoned bakery. The hinges screamed, but the street noise drowned it out. He pulled Catalina in by the arm, Isa close behind, Gabriel still clinging to her chest like a second heartbeat.
Inside was dark, the air thick with mold and flour long turned sour.
Lucien slammed the door shut. He leaned against it for a second, chest heaving, hair plastered to his forehead. Water dripped from his jaw onto the cracked tiles.
“Safe,” Isa muttered, pulling down a curtain over the tiny window. “For now.”
Catalina stood in the middle of the room, shaking. Gabriel’s small body was warm against her, but her blood felt like ice.
She didn
