The cold hurts when I suck in a breath. The street is wet from a rain that must have started while we were inside. Puddles catch the glow of passing headlights. Kir drops my wrist, shrugs off his coat, and drapes it over my bare shoulders without asking.
He still hasn’t looked at me.
“Kir,” I beg, “talk to me. Please.”
Kir starts walking. I run after him again, asking, “Kir, who was that? How did you know him? He said he was your friend! Kir!”
He refuses to answer any of my questions, so with an angry huff, I stop walking.
He makes it a few more strides before he realizes I’m not beside him anymore. The rain is picking up. It’s cold on my bare legs and it’s ruining my hair, but I don’t care about any of that.
“He said I’m going to get us both killed,” I call after him. My heels are p
