The museum looked like a cathedral made of glass and stone, glowing softly against the cold night air. I stood at the top of the steps, shivering in my coat, breath curling out in little clouds. Branson’s instructions had been precise—wait outside, in the cold—and so I obeyed. I could have gone inside and warmed up, but that would have felt like cheating.
A gust of wind tugged at my scarf, and I clutched it tighter, glancing around. Couples passed by on the sidewalk, wrapped in chatter and wool coats. A man smoking a cigarette across the street looked up at me once, then back down at his phone. Nothing suspicious. Just a city being itself.
I checked my watch—9:14. One minute to go. My heart beat harder with every second, anticipation curling tight in my stomach.
When I saw him, it was l
