I have the taxi driver drop me off a few blocks from my house, knowing that I need the time to think things over. The cold, crisp air outside feels good against my hot cheeks. It smells like it might snow later and I secretly hope for a blizzard. A physical cage of snow sounds better than the threatened cage Victoria Russo has just put me in.

At least if there was a blizzard, I could spend the time going through my apartment searching and removing the recording devices that were probably hidden in my apartment. That was the only way she could have known that Dante had left or was even there in the first place. She would certainly have the motive and the funds to do so.

I kick an empty can down the sidewalk, listening to it plink and ping against the frozen concrete. There's the steady hum of traffic beside me and the cold wind of winter whistling through the buildings. I take a deep breath, focusing on how the cold feels in my lungs. I'm only wearing the skirt and blouse, but I'm hot with anger. I take another breath, filling myself with the icy wind. It makes my insides ache and gives me something physical to concentrate on.

My mind is still having trouble wrapping around my encounter with Mrs. Russo. I didn't see it coming and that scares me. I'm usually good at seeing things like this. I've been trained by my family to look for things. It's part of running a business.

I wonder if I'm losing my skills.

I turn the corner past my building, still full of anxious, angry energy. I have to come up with a plan. I hate being surprised and Victoria Russo has certainly surprised me. Someone must have dirt on her. She had to have a good reason for going against her husband on this.

I walk faster, pumping blood through my legs and watching my breath mist the air. I don't even have an actual destination, just a need for movement. With my body occupied, my mind is free to tumble and turn and work on the problem on hand.

hat do I feel for Dante? Am I just doing this out of family obligation, or do I truly care about him? I'm not sure. I know I'm not cut out for a future of happiness and love. I'm pretty sure that he isn't either. Does that make us the perfect pair, then? We would never be content in a white-picket fenced yard with two kids and a dog, but I can see us as the two most powerful people in New York. We could make this work.

I step out onto the crosswalk only to have a cab scream past, horn blaring as it misses me by a mere inch. I stumble back onto the sidewalk, heart in my throat. The big red hand glares at me from across the street, admonishing me for even thinking of walking. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn't been paying attention. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to center myself.

If I'm going to survive this I need to pay attention.

"You okay?" a small voice asks from beside me. "You look like you don't feel good."

I look down and see a girl looking up at me with big brown eyes. She's probably around twelve-years-old, but she has on light makeup, making her look slightly older. She's no longer a child. She looks so innocent, yet ready for adulthood. It's like looking back through time at a picture of myself. I suddenly notice the cold air.

"I... uh..." I stammer, trying to find the words, but her eyes – the same shape and shade as my own – have me completely unable to form a sentence.

A woman with long brown hair and kind blue eyes puts her hands on the little girl's shoulders. "I'm so sorry if she's bothering you," the woman apologizes. She squeezes the girl's shoulders as only a mother can. She's wearing a yellow sweater. “She's just very friendly.”

"No, she's fine," I manage to mumble. The girl smiles and I'm suddenly transported back in time. Memories hit me hard and fast. My lungs refuse to work. Panic, fear, heartache, and loss all fight in my stomach like rabid monsters. I feel like I'm going to be sick. "I have to go..."

I step out into the street just as the light changes. A cab leans on its horn as I barely miss a collision with the yellow and black door, but I don't care. I have to get away from her. I can't be near her.

I stumble for three blocks, turning at every opportunity to get away from the girl. She's me in another timeline and I fear fear like a physical hand on my skin.

Looking at her is like looking at a broken dream. Even with her safely three blocks behind me, I can feel her eyes asking me, "Why?"

I don't like my answer.

A lone tear trickles down my cheek. It's hot at first, but cools quickly by the winter wind. I wipe it away, and then stare at the damp spot on the palm of my hand. I thought I had shed all my tears over my past. I thought I had left it all behind me. I glance back at the road, expecting to see the girl like a ghost haunting me, but the street is full of adult strangers. The past still haunts me, no matter how I fast I run or how well I hide.

I need a drink. Or a good fuck. Something to take my mind off the little girl I once was. I know where I can get both.

My hands shake as I take a quarter out of my pocket and step into the first phone booth I see. My fingers are numb with the cold but the plastic box seems hot in comparison to the temperature outside. I dial Dante's number and hold the receiver up to my ear.

"Go," comes the gruff response on the other line.

"Dante?" My voice comes out squeakier than I had intended. I'm far more rattled than I care to admit.

"Vesper?" His tone softens with concern. "Are you all right?"

"I need to see you." I have control of myself again, even if my hand is shaking. I tell myself it's just from the cold.

"Okay," Dante says. "I just need to finish up some paperwork and then I can meet you-"

"No," I cut him off. "I can't wait. I need you now."

"You need me now, eh?" There is a smile and pride in his voice. "You can come to my office then."

He gives me his address. I don't have anything to write it down on, so I just memorize it instead. It's only a few blocks away, so I'm not worried about forgetting it. I've been there before for business. I think of Dante's bare chest instead of the little girl. That's what I want. I hang up the phone and start walking, letting the fires of need keep me warm against the winter wind.