"You're so cold! Melody will warm you up!"
Her small palms pressed against my cheeks. They were so warm.
I lifted my gaze and met the man's eyes.
He stared at me. Shock, suspicion, and the faintest flicker of relief churned behind his expression.
He didn't expose me.
He rose to his feet and murmured something to the stunned elderly relatives beside him.
They covered their mouths, tears streaming, and one by one filed out of the room.
"Come with me."
He pointed at me, his voice tight.
The unlit stairwell.
The man leaned against the wall and struck a cigarette to life, but he didn't smoke it.
The flame guttered and flared, casting hard light along the edge of his jaw.
"What do you want?" His voice carried the weight of a man accustomed to absolute authority.
"A meal and a bed." I leaned against the staircase railing, gasping for air.
Those few steps had drained half the strength I had left.
"Name."
"Beatrice Henson."
His eyes narrowed as he looked me over, head to toe.
"Ivan Stephens."
"Olivia just passed. Melody has a severe congenital heart defect. She can't handle the shock."
"When you lower your voice, you sound about halfway like Olivia. Similar build, too."