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A blur of black trench coat and lethal grace.
A sound — wet, brutal, and sickeningly specific — the sharp crack of bone and flesh meeting brick at terrible speed. Even fifty feet away, through thick glass, it landed in her body like a hammer.
And the man hit the brick wall of the bank. Not fell. Hit. At speed. From an angle her brain refused to process. The wall shuddered with the impact. A bright streak of red appeared where his head met the brick and began to run downward in a slow, viscous line as he slid bonelessly to the sidewalk and crumpled into a broken heap.
He did not get up.
The whole street went deathly silent except for the soft hiss of falling snow.
The woman on the ground stared up at Cal with her mouth open, blood shining at the corner of her split lip. Her arm was still half-extended toward the car seat. The child inside — who had been wailing — had gone utterly quiet. Wide eyes fixed on the enormous man in the black coat with the frozen silence of a small animal that doesn’t yet know if this new shape in its world is going to eat it… or save it.
Cal stood over the fallen man, his trench coat billowing slightly in the breeze.
He did not move.
He did not look at the woman.
He did not look at the child.
He did not look across the street at the diner window where Sage’s hands were still pressed to the glass.
He simply stood with his hands loose at his sides, snow collecting on the broad shoulders of his coat, face turned toward the blood-streaked brick. Snowflakes melted on his skin and disappeared.
He did not move.
Behind Sage, Annie made a small, broken sound that wasn’t quite a word.
SAGE
Sage went through the diner door without remembering she’d moved.
The bell jangled overhead. Bitter cold slapped her face, sharp as a slap. Snow crunched under her boots as she sprinted across Main Street, Mary Sue and Rowan calling her name somewhere behind her. She barely heard them. Her pulse was a roar in her ears.
She reached the woman first.
Dropping to her knees on the freezing concrete, Sage put a gentle hand on the woman’s thin shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s okay. The ambulance is coming. Where are you hurt?”
The woman stared at her, dazed, like the words were in another language. Blood trickled from her split lip, already swelling, and her cheek was blooming into a nasty bruise.
“Are you hurt anywhere besides your face?” Sage asked, softer. “Can you stand?”
The woman shook her head, voice cracking. “My baby—”
“Your baby is okay. I can see him. He’s right here and he’s okay.” Sage glanced at the car seat. The child’s wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto her. “I’m going to come right back to you, all right? Stay with me. I’ve got you.”
She straightened, legs trembling from adrenaline, and took the four short steps to the car seat. She didn’t touch him. Instead she sank down until she was eye-level, offering the small, soft, earned smile she’d learned to give over the last six weeks.
“Hi, honey,” she whispered.
The child’s lower lip wobbled. A shuddering breath hitched in his tiny chest.
“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re safe. I’m gonna take care of your mama, all right? You’re such a brave boy.”
She held his gaze, steady and warm, until the frantic pumping of his mittened fists slowed. One breath. Then another. The hoarse little whimpers eased.
Sage rose.
She walked straight to Cal.
