While walking through the parking lot to the sidewalk, someone calls my name. I turn and see Fen standing by a black and silver motorcycle. He's already straddling it. "You'll catch your death out here," he says.

I shrug. "It's not so bad." Though I can barely feel my toes or my nose anymore, but whatever.

"Get on," he says, looking at the seat behind him. "I've got an extra helmet."

"Um. I can't. I don't live far. I'll be fine walking." I can feel the hives lurking under my skin at the thought of being on a motorcycle. That's even worse than a car. I take a deep breath.

He cocks his head, but instead of arguing, he takes his trench coat off and hands it to me. "If you insist on walking, at least wear appropriate clothing."

"You're wearing a t-shirt," I say. "That's less than what I'm wearing."

He chuckles. "I'm used to the cold. We get much worse where I'm from. Wear it."

I want to argue, to hand it back to him, but honestly, I'm freezing, and he's already starting his motorcycle. "Be safe, Ari."

Before I can thank him or say goodbye, he's gone. I look down at the trench coat and then pull it on. It's warmed by his body heat and smells like him, a musky woodsy scent that makes me think of tall trees and wind. I luxuriate in the thick wool as it falls to my feet, bringing warmth back into my body.

The walk home is a lot more pleasant now that I'm not freezing to death. I'm lost in thought, enjoying the feeling of the snow crunching under my feet as I walk the familiar path home, when something makes me stop.

It's not a sound. Not really. More that sense of impending doom. Someone is following me again. Is it the man from the hospital? The... I can't even bring myself to call him what I saw him to be. I just need to keep calm and get home. I'll be safe there.

Maybe it's just my imagination playing tricks on me. I haven't slept in so long, I'm probably starting to hallucinate or something. Maybe it's nothing.

But as I walk past the alley next to my apartment unit, someone grabs me and pulls me into the shadows.

I try to scream but a hand covers my mouth. "This will go better for you if you stop fighting."

I bite the hand and hear the man curse, but he doesn't let go. My eyes search around frantically for a way out, for a weapon, for anything. But all I see are two more people dressed in black approaching me. Winter masks cover their faces, and I know they are here for me.

One of them pulls out a needle.

Why not a gun? I slump in my attackers arms and slam the heel of my shoe into his knee. His grip loosens, and I spin in his arms and bring my knee up to make contact with his groin. He slumps over in pain, but it doesn't stop him from pulling me back.

I'm waiting for the others to attack me, but they are distracted by something else. No, someone else.

The two in black are thrown aside like dolls, and I feel the needle jab into my neck just as my eyes lock onto the person who attacked them.

Recognition dawns just as my consciousness fades.

***

My head is pounding and my mouth feels like someone filled it with cotton balls and told me to swallow. I try to keep my breathing steady, and I keep my eyes closed. I don't know where I am yet, and I don't want my captors to know I'm awake.

Why am I even still alive? No good reason, I'm sure.

I don't hear anything at first, but then small sounds trickle in. Someone is in the room with me, pacing. They have heavy boots that aren't muffled by the carpeting. I'm laying on something lumpy and made of corduroy. Something I recognize.

I listen more closely and I hear it: the faint hum of my refrigerator. It started working again. I'm on my couch.

A phone rings and a man answers with a deep, gravelly, British voice. "I have her. She's safe."

Pause.

"No, I do not."

Pause.

"There were three of them and my priority was protecting the girl."

Pause.

"Very well."

He stops talking, and I wait a few moments before I take a deep breath as if just waking up. I try to open my eyes next.

Big mistake.

Light hurts.

I moan, raising my hand to shield my face.

The lights go out and someone walks closer to me. "Do not move too quickly. You are still recovering from the sedative they gave you."

Large hands hold my back and head and help me into a sitting position. When I finally pry my eyes open, I look up and see the man who rescued me from my attackers.

Fen.

"What happened?" I ask, rubbing my head.

He hands me a glass of water and sits across from me. "You were attacked. I intervened and brought you home. The effects of the sedative should wear off soon. You'll feel tired and out of sorts but you will be fine."

I reach up to rub the spot on my neck where the needle entered me. It's covered in a bandage. "Thank you." As my brain wakes up, I have so many questions, but I start with the most obvious ones. "Who are you? And how is it you happened to be around when I was attacked?"

"My name is Fenris Vane. My friends call me Fen. When I saw you leave the hospital to walk home alone, I worried something might happen."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Really? Did you see someone following me? Why do you even care what happens to a random stranger?"

"Stick to being grateful, girl. Asking questions only leads to trouble."

"It appears I'm in trouble no matter what I do. First my mom mysteriously falls into a coma, and now I'm being attacked and drugged. And you show up, all rugged and viciously protective. Does that seem like a coincidence to you?"