Ron held his hands up in surrender, palms open. "I'm not taking it, Leo. I swear it. But if she stays wrapped in wet fabric, she's going to get sick. You can hold it right here on the table."
Leo swallowed hard. He looked at Lily's blue lips. Slowly, reluctantly, he unwrapped the wet, heavy blanket from around his sister. Gunnar immediately swaddled the toddler in a thick, warm towel. Lily let out a soft sigh, her head drooping against Leo's chest as the heat from the radiator finally began to work.
Leo placed the wet blanket on the table, keeping one hand firmly pressed over the silver wheel patch.
"Thank you," Leo whispered, his adrenaline fading, leaving him utterly exhausted.
Brick, the massive man from the kitchen, emerged carrying two steaming bowls of thick chili and a plate of cornbread. He set them down on the table with surprising care.
"Eat," Ron commanded softly.
Leo didn't need to be told twice. He picked up a spoon and carefully fed a small bite of the warm chili to Lily. She ate it eagerly, opening her mouth like a little bird. Leo took a bite himself, groaning as the rich, spicy warmth hit his empty stomach. It was the best thing he had ever tasted.
The bar remained quiet. The jukebox was still off. The men had returned to their tables, but they were speaking in hushed murmurs, casting frequent glances toward the booth.
Ron watched Leo feed his sister for a long time. The big man's eyes kept drifting down to the wet purple blanket on the table.
"You're a good brother, Leo," Ron finally said. "Taking care of her like that."
Leo just nodded, keeping his eyes on the bowl.
"That blanket," Ron said, his voice lowering so only Leo could hear. "The purple one with the patch. Where did you get it?"
Leo stopped chewing. The question made his stomach tighten into a hard knot. He looked at Ron, trying to gauge if it was a trick.
"My mom made it," Leo said defensively. "For Lily. When she was born."
Ron leaned forward slightly, the leather of his vest creaking again. "Your mom made it. Did she put that patch on it? The silver wheel?"
Leo nodded slowly. "She cut it off an old jacket. She said it was lucky."
Ron closed his eyes for a second, a deep breath shuddering through his massive chest. When he opened them again, they were glassy. "What is your mother's name, Leo?"
"Sarah," Leo answered, his voice barely a whisper. "Sarah Hayes."
The name hit Ron like a physical blow. The big man gripped the back of the wooden chair so hard his knuckles turned white. Across the room, Gunnar and Dutch exchanged a sharp, immediate look.
"Sarah," Ron repeated, the word sounding like a prayer. He swallowed hard. "Where is your mom right now, Leo? Why are you out in this storm by yourselves?"
Leo's eyes filled with hot tears. He dropped the spoon into the bowl. The memories of the last few hours rushed back in a chaotic, terrifying wave. The yelling. The breaking glass. The heavy footsteps on the stairs.
"She told us to run," Leo choked out, a tear spilling over his eyelashes and tracking through the dirt on his cheek. "She said he was too mad tonight. She said to climb out the fire escape and run until we found the Iron Vale. She said if I showed them the blanket, they would keep us safe."