The city had one hour of darkness left. On the roof of the old observatory, Mara fastened the last silver buckle of her crimson corset. Below her, the river carried the lights of a thousand windows. One of them belonged to the person she had promised to bring home.
Her radio crackled. “The bridge is closed.” Mara looked toward the narrow maintenance walkway beneath it. “Then we take the long way.” She had never believed that courage meant feeling nothing. Courage was the tremor in her hands—and the decision to keep moving.
The red panel of her costume caught a passing searchlight. For one bright second she was visible against the skyline. She raised her arm, drawing attention away from the small group crossing behind her. The city mistook her silhouette for a threat. Her friends knew it was a promise.
When morning finally reached the river, the observatory bell rang for the first time in years. Mara stood on the far bank, her mission complete. She had not come to own the city. She had come to give someone their way back into it.
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