flash
The concrete beneath Nathan Fischer’s handmade leather shoes felt unforgiving. Two blocks away from the Warwick Grand Hotel, the glitz of the ballroom dissolved into the grim, gray reality of Westfield Square. The wind howled through the concrete canyons, carrying the sharp scent of damp asphalt, diesel exhaust, and freezing autumn air. / Chapter 3 / 10

Chapter 3 - The Race Against TimeInstinct—raw, unvarnished, and primal—overrode every layer of corporate insulation Nathan had built around himself over a decade of wealth and isolation.

“How long has he been like this?” Nathan demanded, his voice cracking with a sudden, fierce panic. He tore off his expensive cashmere scarf without a second thought.

“Since the sun went down,” the little girl whispered, her teeth chattering so hard she could barely form the words. “I tried to hug him. I tried to keep him warm with my breath, but... but my chest is empty, mister. He’s getting so cold.”

Nathan didn't hesitate. He thrust his hands into the box, ignoring the jagged edges of cardboard that scratched his wrists, and lifted the infant out.

The cold radiating from the baby’s tiny body hit Nathan like a physical blow. It didn't feel human. It felt like holding a piece of winter ice pulled straight from a frozen lake.

“Hey. Hey, look at me,” Nathan muttered, his voice trembling as he pressed the freezing bundle directly against his bare chest underneath his shirt and wool coat, using his own body heat as a desperate shield.

The baby didn't cry. He didn't have the energy. He let out a weak, pathetic wheeze that sounded like air escaping a punctured tire.

Nathan spun around, scanning the empty square. No taxis. No police cruisers. The pedestrian walk was completely deserted.

“Paul!” Nathan roared into the night, pressing his Bluetooth earpiece. “Paul, bring the car around right now! Westfield Square, north exit! Move!”

The little girl scrambled out of the cardboard box, her bare feet hitting the freezing pavement with a sickening slap. She tried to run after Nathan, but her legs buckled instantly.

Nathan caught her by the collar of her oversized, grease-stained jacket just before she hit the ground, hauling her up into his free arm while keeping the baby pressed tightly against his heart.

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“What’s your name?” Nathan asked fiercely, his eyes blazing as a black sedan screeched around the corner, tires squealing against the asphalt.

“Maya,” she sobbed, clutching the hem of Nathan's expensive coat. “Don't let my little brother die, mister. Please... he’s all I have left.”

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