The bell chimed as a group of teenagers piled in—too loud, all elbows and laughter and unfortunate clothing choices. I barely registered them at first.
Then one of them stopped short.
I felt it before I heard it—the way Elior stiffened beside me, the way his hand tightened on the paper bag.
“…Holy shit,” one of the kids muttered.
I turned just in time to see a boy with shaggy hair doing an unmistakable double-take, his eyes bouncing between Elior and his phone.
“Hey,” he said, louder now, uncertainty edging into excitement. “Aren’t you—”
My body moved before my brain finished the thought.
I stepped half a pace in front of Elior, angling my shoulder so I blocked him from view, my hand coming back to restagainst his hip.
The kid frowned, trying to see around me. “I mean, from the news. You’re that guy, right? The cult—”
“No,” I said flatly.
The teen blinked. “I’m just asking—”
“And I’m answering,” I replied, voice calm but frigid. “You’ve got the wrong person.”
Elior’s hands trembled against my back, digging into the fabric of my jacket.
Another kid snorted. “Dude, itishim. I saw the picture.”
A girl in the back of the group spoke up. “Guys, stop it…”
“My uncle says you should be locked up like your dad is. He says you had to have known what was going on. And he’s a cop, so—”
“I would say your uncle should’ve taught you to shut your mouth, but it doesn’t sound like he ever learned that himself,” I chastised.
“Ooooooh.”
The boy’s face turned dark red from the chorus of his annoying friends.
“…Whatever,” he muttered, practically shuffling over to one of the tables.
His friends then lost interest in us, some following him and some heading to the counter.
Only then did I turn back.
Elior was staring at the floor, shoulders drawn in, fingers tightly gripping the bag. I crouched slightly so I was in his line of sight.
“Hey,” I said softly. “Look at me, baby.”
It took a second, but he did.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I told him quietly. “Okay? Not one thing.”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “Can we go now?”
“Yeah,” I said immediately, already guiding him toward the door.
He kept his eyes low as we walked out into the fresh air, sticking to me like glue until we reached my car. As always, I opened the passenger-side door first and helped him in.
I took a breath as I shut his door, the despondent look on his face making me fight the urge to go back to the bakery and wring those kids’ necks.
