Chapter 2 - The Sanctuary of St. Jude's
Six blocks away, the rotting wooden doors of St. Jude’s parish basement offered no real defense against the winter wind, but to eight-year-old Harper Reed, they felt like the gates of heaven.
Her lungs burned with a searing, metallic ache. Every step felt like walking on shattered glass as her frost-numbed toes protested inside her worn-out canvas sneakers. Slinging her heavy plastic bag of aluminum cans onto the concrete floor with a dull, hollow clatter, she collapsed against the heavy radiator pipe. It was lukewarm at best, but it was the only source of heat in the entire cavernous room.
"Grandma June?" Harper whispered, her teeth chattering so violently she could barely articulate the words.
From the dim corner behind a stack of moth-eaten hymnals, an old woman with skin like parchment and eyes clouded by cataracts stirred. June pulled a threadbare, moth-eaten quilt tighter around her skeletal shoulders. She let out a dry, rattling cough that ended in a soft groan.
"Harper, child... thank God," June rasped, her voice trembling with exhaustion. "You're back. Did you... did you find anything?"
Harper looked down at her empty hands, a fresh wave of hot tears freezing instantly on her cheeks. "The recycling center... it was locked up tight, Grandma. The man said they don't open until dawn. I tried... I tried to call him. The man on the phone. I used the old phone like Mama said."
June closed her eyes, a deep, agonizing sorrow washing over her worn features. "Oh, my sweet girl. You shouldn't have been out in this blizzard. Come here. Quickly."
Harper crawled across the linoleum, her small body shivering violently as she buried herself beneath the scratchy fleece blanket next to June. Beneath the makeshift nest of coats, three tiny bodies stirred, letting out weak, mewling cries of hunger.
The triplets. Leo, Maya, and baby Sam.
They were four months old, born into a world that had already stripped away everything they had. Their skin was pale, their tiny fingers ice-cold, and their bellies swollen from hours without proper nourishment.
"They haven't stopped crying for two hours, Harper," June whispered, a tear tracing a path through the dirt on her cheek. "There's no formula left. Not a drop. Just water boiled with a pinch of sugar. And even that is freezing over."
Harper pressed her face into the damp fabric of her coat, a fierce, protective rage swelling inside her chest—a trait she had inherited entirely from a mother who had fought to her last breath to keep them alive.
"He's coming, Grandma," Harper murmured fiercely, her small fists clenched so tight her knuckles turned white. "The man on the phone. He sounded big. He sounded rich. He has to come."
Before June could answer, a heavy, metallic crash echoed from the top of the concrete stairs leading down from the alley. Heavy boots slammed onto the metal steps, descending with rapid, commanding urgency.
May you like
Harper froze, her breath catching in her throat.
Had the landlords found them? Or worse... had the men who had been tracking Olivia finally caught up?
