I never gave them what they expected. The art of protection is not a spectacle. It's the patient architecture of a life you refuse to let crumble. That's what I do. Build the scaffolding, tighten the bolts, station the watchers, and when the inevitable blow comes, fracture radiates into the air and we catch it before it reaches her.

When I left the square that day, I didn't feel triumphant. I felt careful. That’s an ugly word for the sensation I carry in my bones—alert, patient, and coldly deliberate. Barry had placed his pebble in Alina's shoe and watched to see if she'd limp. She hadn't. She marched forward as...