The two men moved toward me without a word, and every instinct I had screamed at once. I was already burning up , head pounding, skin too hot, the cold making everything feel slow and far away , but fear cut through all of it like a blade. I ran.
I collided straight into Vito.
I stumbled back, staring up at him with my heart hammering, caught completely between two bad things. My face had already been flushed from the fever. Now it went pale. "It's , it's you."
I didn't know whether running toward him was better or worse than running away. I didn't get to decide. His hand closed around my wrist and he pulled me behind him in one smooth motion, putting himself between me and the two men. He wasn't much older than me, but something about the way he stood , the stillness of it, the weight of it , made the air in the room shift.
"Move aside," he said. His voice was flat and cold, carrying the kind of authority that doesn't ask permission.
