And, most importantly, when the pattern did not fit, she spoke.
Lucas listened.
That was the second half of the story people often forgot.
A warning only matters if someone respects the person giving it.
Lily had warned an adult once.
The adult had dismissed her.
Years later, when Nora tugged Lucas’s sleeve in a noisy motorcycle garage and whispered that something was wrong, Lucas had a choice.
He could smile.
Reassure her.
Tell her not to worry.
Tell her it was only the wind.
Instead, he turned off the music.
Everything after that became possible because he did.
One autumn evening, nearly a year after the incident, Nora arrived at the garage while the Steel Vultures were finishing dinner.
Same battered speaker.
Same oil-stained concrete.
Same booth.
Same back door.
Outside, wind moved through the alley.
The door rattled.
Jojo stopped talking.
Walsh looked up.
Lucas glanced toward Nora.
She listened.
Two seconds.
Then she returned to her homework.
“Wind,” she said.
The room relaxed.