The scream of the alarms was dying, replaced by the deep, ominous groan of the skyscraper’s exposed rebar. The wall of solid concrete separating Nora from Ethan was a tomb. On her side, the air was a thick gray paste of pulverized stone and sulfur.
Leo was shaking, his tiny fingers clawing weakly at Cynthia’s manicured hand on his collar. His eyes, usually so distant and cold under Cynthia's grooming, were wide with a child's raw terror. When he looked through the smoke and saw Nora standing there—not the shrinking, silent mother he was taught to ignore, but a blood-stained, fierce shadow with a silver dagger—something shifted in his face.
"Mommy..." he whimpered.
The word cracked the last layer of ice around Nora's heart.
"Don't look at her, Leo," Cynthia snapped, tightening her grip
