The mysterious man had been watching Leo for a while. He was at every one of his fights, always in the front row, observing. He was there when Leo went out for midnight snacks, or when he did his laundry. Always somewhere nearby, standing in the shadows, watching.
The dark streets of London looked as if someone had taken the light out of them. The city seemed to be sleeping, covered by a blanket called Night. The moon was shining brightly above the park, but it wasn’t the only light disturbing the peaceful darkness. There was a light coming from the window of the room.
