THE SILVER WING: A Broken Bracelet, a Six-Year Conspiracy, and a Sister Who Would Bravely Defy the Shadows to Bring Her Family Home.

Instinct took over before Linh’s mind could process the danger.

She lunged.

Linh’s hand closed around the child’s thin, cold arm, and she yanked the girl back with all her weight. They both stumbled violently, crashing into a bamboo food stall. Stacked paper cups rolled across the wet stones as a cloud of grilled smoke and steam wrapped around them.

The scooter roared past, missing the girl’s heels by inches, its driver screaming curses into the rain before disappearing down the alley.

For one terrifying second, the market around them seemed to stop breathing.

Linh dropped to her knees on the filthy pavement, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The little girl looked up at her—she couldn't have been more than six years old, with huge, terrified dark eyes and trembling, pale lips.

Before Linh could ask if she was hurt, a boy rushed out of the crowd.

He threw himself violently between Linh and the girl, one arm flung protectively across the child's chest. His dirty backpack slid off one shoulder, heavy with whatever meager belongings they possessed.

“Don’t touch her!” the boy yelled, his voice cracking with a mix of fury and sheer terror. He looked no older than twelve, his elbows scraped, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and rain.

Linh breathed hard, holding up her hands to show she meant no harm. "I'm not going to hurt her. She almost—"

Linh’s voice died in her throat.

Her eyes had fallen upon the little girl’s trembling left wrist, exposed where her sleeve had pulled back during the fall.