“Hold on,” she whispered to him as if she had known him all her life. “I’m not leaving. They told me you need twenty minutes.”

Helen, hands shaking, dialed emergency services. She kept glancing at her daughter, baffled by how the child spoke with calm authority, tilting the man’s head to clear his airway and keeping pressure on his chest wound with surprising precision.

“Where did you learn that?” Helen asked breathlessly.

Sophie didn’t look up. “From Isla,” she murmured. “She came in my dream last night. She said her father would crash and I’d have to help.”

The injured biker was Jonas “Grizzly” Keller, riding home from a memorial run when a pickup shoved him off the road. He had lost too much blood already. Yet Sophie kept singing under her breath, the same lullaby again and again, her princess dress dark with