The girl grabbed the back of his jacket with both hands. The other man stopped a few feet away. “She’s with me,” he said sharply. The girl shook her head at once, terrified. The seated man—standing now—didn’t take his eyes off him. “No,” he said. “She isn’t.” The subway car had gone almost silent. Even the strangers could feel it now.

Something was wrong. The little girl’s breath broke behind him. “She said if I found the wolf…” she whispered, “you would keep me safe.” That nearly broke him. Because Sarah knew that tattoo. Sarah had kissed that hand once. Sarah had vanished years ago without a word, leaving behind nothing but questions and a wound he never learned how to close. He turned his head just enough to look at the girl. “Where is your mother?” he asked. The child’s lips trembled. “She told me to run if he found us,” she whispered.

“She said you’d help because… you loved her before.” The man in the black jacket lunged one step forward. The rugged man moved faster, blocking him completely. The wolf on his hand caught the subway light as he lifted it between them. Then, without taking his eyes off the man, he asked the girl one more question. “Are you Sarah’s daughter?” The girl nodded, tears spilling now. And suddenly the answer was there, staring him in the face. The fear. The timing. The name. The eyes. His eyes.

He looked at her like the ground had dropped away beneath him. Then back at the man in front of him. And when he spoke, his voice was calm enough to be terrifying. “You should start praying the next stop comes fast.”