The December wind howled through the empty streets of Riverton, carrying sharp flakes of snow that stung like tiny needles against exposed skin.
Elena Carter pulled her thin sweater tighter around her body as she sat on the cold metal bench at the bus stop. The bench had long since lost its warmth, and the freezing steel seeped through the fabric of her dress.
At twenty-four, Elena looked closer to thirty-five.
Three days.
That was how long it had been since she’d last eaten a real meal.
Her stomach twisted with hunger, but by now the ache had become dull, like a distant echo. Worse than hunger was the exhaustion. Worse still was the feeling of being invisible.
