NO ONE COULD HANDLE THE MAFIA BOSS’S DAUGHTER—UNTIL A WAITRESS WALKED INTO THE CHAOS AND DID THE IMPOSSIBLE

just me and my little brother Leo. He was five. Whenever a storm came, he cried. So even though I was scared too, I had to be brave. I’d crawl under the bed with him and tell stories to drown out the thunder.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Stories about warriors,” Willow said. “About people who were small but very, very strong. I told him the thunder wasn’t continue reading …