Atlas has started avoiding Maya's street. Wide detours. Blocks out of his way. A wolf the size of a two-story house trying to be subtle.He is afraid of her. Not of what she is. Of what she will cost him. Almost sixty years ago, a boy at the river — Atlas revealed himself, saved him — and the threads the Hollows followed nearly killed them both.Now a nine-year-old with a notebook is undoing sixty years of discipline… by looking at him. All day she had been looking at it. Really looking. Nobody had done that in sixty years.And tonight, a Hollow sits patiently in front of Maya's door. Not attacking. Waiting. It is here for her… because she saw him.