Sixteen years ago...
Swift as a fox, a man coated in layers of jackets and hats slipped through a damp, cold alley. His steel-toed boots halted with a heavy thunk before the first car could roll over his toes. His toes hung over the curb, and the streetlights illuminated his face half-masked in shadows from the alley.
A cry came from the deepest layer of coats. The man ripped the zipper open and revealed the face of a dark-haired baby girl. He hushed her and promised that they would reach their destination soon enough. She quieted. The reassurance wasn't only for the child, as a previous encounter had left his ears and fingers frost-bitten. They ached enough to make every movement with the baby feel like it could be his last.
Just one more step, and one more after that.
Finally, at the brick wall surrounding a fine estate of the second richest couple in the state, the man stripped the hats from his head. Beads of sweat dampened his strawberry blond hair and stung his eyes. He dabbed at his forehead with the back of his wrist. The cool night air stuck to his face and sent a chill down his spine.
The man touched up his matted hair as well as he could without a mirror or comb, then stepped into the brick wall. His breath hitched as he traveled through an invisible barrier. A heavy sigh left his mouth on the other side. He could never get used to the feeling of his particles being torn apart then put back together just as quickly.
Knees buckling, the man allowed himself to fall apart within the safety of the Evans estate. It was warm and smelled of vanilla and promised safety around every corner. The building reminded him of the former owners - his own caretakers once upon a time. The estate held echoes of the blond man and his little brother running about, playing a game of extreme tag. It would forever be a second home.
He collapsed into a kneeling position, the baby still safe under his coats.
She giggled. Her fingers poked out and grasped the zipper. She tugged, but it went nowhere.
The man laughed and removed her from her confinement. He held her in his arms and rocked her. The frostbite on his fingers ached, but he couldn't smother the child any longer.
"You're finally home, Armina," the blond whispered softly into her ear.
She giggled and smiled, two tiny teeth barely peeking out.
After a moment, the click of heels coming around the lobby staircase caught their attention. The kneeling man peered up to see Louisa Evans, a tall, attractive young woman with more muscle than some men and a jawline that could shred paper. Her face was coated in dark makeup that made her sky-blue eyes pop and her burgundy hair stand out in any lighting. She wore a pencil skirt and a black blouse with ruffles around the v-neck collar. Louisa halted and glanced down at the blond man, stunning as the last time the man's green eyes had met her blue specks.
The intensity faded from her face alongside the colour in her cheeks. She stepped down, concerned by the black and blue across his nose and ears. "Peter!" she gasped, quickly taking the baby from his fragile hands.
Before she could ask him what had happened, he muttered, "Help her," then collapsed on the oddly-patterned rug. Peter's face met the soft nylon with a thud. His eyes flicked shut, a sign that he was merely sleeping rather than dead.
Louisa let out a heavy breath. She looked to the baby girl as if there were answers instead of her dumb little head. But of course the girl was silent. Staring into the baby's big, dark eyes, Lousia found herself in the company of a familiar face. In the child's expression was an old friend laughing from the grave.
Knowing how impossible it would be for a man three years dead to have an infant, Louisa turned her attention to the enormous, empty halls of her home. She called out for help, which soon came from the upstairs study.
Two boys came jogging down the stairs. One stepped back as they saw Peter on the brink of death. The other asked Louisa what she needed of them. She ordered them to take him to the medical wing and have the nurse take a look at her long-lost friend. They quickly hoisted him up by the arms and legs and carried him off.
Tucking the flap of the blanket behind the baby's ear, Louisa got a full look at her face. She couldn't help but feel like she was related to her late friend. The almost-black hair and deep brown eyes were a stunning resemblance of Noah Stanton.
"Who might you be?" asked Louisa, but the baby didn't answer. Her heart sank. No answers would be coming soon. "What did Noah do?"
Louisa swiveled on her heel, then disappeared into the hall. She had to do something with the baby.