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Lilah’s words came back to me as clearly as the day she’d said them. My beautiful warrior. She’d fight the whole damn world for someone she had never even met. I opened my eyes and stood.

The kid was busy digging through Styrofoam containers, searching for anything worth salvaging. Grabbing the cooler Lilah had prepared, I lifted it onto the dumpster ledge, knocking on the metal rather than speaking. The kid froze at the sound, his shoulders jumping to his ears before his whole body slumped and he turned toward where I was standing.

He was pale and so very, very thin. Dark hair, long and greasy, hung over a face that was in various stages of healing. Calling his clothing tattered would have been an understatement. They were several sizes too big and being held together by rubber bands and safety pins. Keeping my face impassive, I nodded toward the cooler.

“Promise you, what I got in here is better than anything you’ll find in there,” I said, and he watched me warily. There was nothing I could do about the way I looked, but I kept my body language neutral, my hands in sight and relaxed.

“Why would you help me?” he asked, his voice cracking on each word, as if unused to talking out loud.

“Because I know what it feels like. Not to have anywhere safe to go.” Disbelief flickered across his face, but so did something else—hope, small and fragile.

“So…” he said carefully. “What do you want?”

“For you to stop stealing.” He stiffened.

“And let us give you what we already sent over to the shelter. Food. Clothes. Blankets.”

“No.” The answer came instantly. His walls were back up.

“I can help get you a bed there, too.”

“No.”

I studied him for a second.

“You don’t want to end up in the system.” His head snapped up. Alarm flashed across his face before anger buried it.

“What do you want, asshole?” he snapped. “You gonna call the cops? Turn me in? Or can I just go?” His words were defiant, but his eyes weren’t. Fear, hunger, and exhaustion were living beings behind those wary eyes that kept drifting back to the cooler while one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach. I set it on the ground several feet away from the dumpster before taking another step back.

“I’m leaving this here.” He watched every movement.

“Take it or leave it. Your choice.” He didn’t reply and made no move to reach for the container.

“Nothing’s wrong with the food. It’ll last you a couple of days.” I took another step backward.

“When you’re done, leave the cooler here.” His brow furrowed. “I’ll refill it.” For the first time, he looked genuinely confused. No one had ever offered him anything without asking for something in return.

“If you need anything, ask for Scythe,” I said, turning toward the street,

I didn’t wait for an answer. Some kids could be talked into accepting help, but others had to choose it. This kid had the same look I’d once seen in the mirror. Trust wasn’t something I could hand him. It was something I had to earn.

We repeated the exchange until it became our own silent language. Food. A thank you note. A request for toothpaste, bandages, socks. Another empty cooler. More food and supplies left in our spot. The kid never stayed long enough to be seen, but every drop-off was another brick laid in a bridge neither of us was willing to admit we were building.

Then winter stopped threatening and finally arrived. I watched fat snowflakes drift past the clubhouse windows, and all I could picture was the poor kid trying to sleep in a hoodie that barely qualified as clothing. Lilah looked out the same window.

“That’s it,” she said. My girl had finally had enough.

“You got him to stop running. Now let me convince him to come inside,” she said, her eyes daring me to fight her on it.

“Lilah…” I started but those blue eyes shot to me, full of determination.

“I’ll be ready in ten minutes.” She turned the TV off, leaving no room for argument.

An hour later, we sat in the bar’s office watching the security cameras in silence. The alley remained empty. Then a hooded figure slipped into view. Lilah’s breath caught the moment she saw him for the first time. He looked even smaller on the monitor than I’d remembered.

“Give me the food,” she said, never taking her eyes off the screen. Before I could answer, she was already headed for the back door, cooler in hand. Pulling my coat on, I realized Lilah had left hers. Grabbing it I quickly made my way to the back door. The blast of icy air hit me the second the door opened.

“Angel,” I called after her, holding up the coat. “The biggest storm of the year is rolling in, and you’re walking around in a T-shirt.” She stopped just long enough to shoot me an annoyed look over her shoulder.