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"Don't let them find me," the man whispered, his voice a jagged edge.
"Lean on me," Mahiro said softly. "The apartment isn't far." "Don't let them find me," the man whispered,
The man’s suit was expensive, but ruined—shredded at the shoulder and stained with something darker than rainwater. He looked less like a person and more like a discarded memory. When Mahiro knelt, the man’s eyes flickered open, glazed with a feverish intensity. He didn’t ask for a doctor or the police; he simply reached out a trembling hand and gripped Mahiro’s sleeve. "Don't let them find me