Clara's POV The autumn wind carried a sharp, biting chill that cut straight through the weave of my wool coat, but the frost settling deep in my chest had nothing to do with October. For the past three blocks, a heavy, suffocating sensation had clung to my spine. Every time the heel of my boot struck the pavement, an electric current of warning skittered across my skin. I kept glancing over my shoulder, but the sidewalk behind us was just a mundane tapestry of commuters buried in scarves, turning pages of newspapers, or rushing home to dinner. The street looked ordinary. Safe.Yet the phantom weight remained.I tightened my grip on the handle of the stroller, my knuckles turning stark white against the dark rubber. Up ahead, three-year-old Leo remained blissfully oblivious to the quiet panic clawing at my throat. He babbled softly in his own toddler language, kick-kicking his small, boot-clad feet in rhythm with the wheels as he reached out to snatch at a stray golden leaf skittering
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