You'd been here before. Sixty years ago, give or take.

Back then, you'd been watching over a boy with the same dark curls, the same sharp jaw, the same handsome face that promised trouble. Back then, you'd failed.

You adjusted the headband on your hair—plain black, hiding what needed hiding. Beneath your shirt, the tattoo on your back felt warm, almost alive, like wings waiting to unfold.

And then you saw him.

Dark. Familiar. His father's eyes.