Chapter 2

“But what did he say?”

Darya rubbed swollen knuckles, regarding the body at her feet with disdain. “The ‘why’ doesn’t matter, Frannie. It’s the sentiment.”

They meant well, but Françoise (or Frannie, as Darya affectionately called them) didn’t have kids. Were Magda the one being targeted, Darya knew exactly what she would do. Bloody a nose, break a few fingers, threaten the family dog…but what could you do to a twelve-year-old boy?