The gate was tall and ended in sharp spikes. Marcus wasn’t strong, but hunger had made him light. The streets had taught him how to climb.

The metal bit into his fingers. He slipped. Scraped his knees. Felt warm blood mix with the cold. He kept going.

When he reached the top, he carefully swung his body over and dropped down the other side, landing hard and nearly twisting his ankle.

He didn’t care.

He ran to Lily.

Up close, she looked worse. She wasn’t shivering as much anymore—and Marcus knew that was dangerous.

Without thinking, he pulled off his blue jacket. The cold slammed into him like knives, but he wrapped it around Lily’s shoulders.

“But you’ll be cold,” she whispered.

“I’m used to it,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re not.”

He wrapped her in the blanket too, moved them to a corner of the porch where the wall blocked the wind, and sat with his back against the brick. He pulled her onto his lap, pressing her against his chest to share what little warmth he had left.