Emma’s mind raced, a chaotic jumble of fear and hope. Names could be changed. Scars did not. She forced her hands to unclench from the fists they had become and tried to sound calm, gentle, anything but the terrified, desperate woman she was.

“Leo… Eli,” she said slowly, testing the syllables on her tongue. “Please, sit down, okay? You can have anything you want from the menu, not just leftovers.”