Cain moved through the ruins like smoke trailing a fire, the last notes of violence still humming in his blood. The city had not quieted; it never did. The echoes of their clash bled through the alleys, swallowed by a thousand other sounds—screams too far away to matter, the hollow bark of vendors already awake, the mutter of machines grinding behind locked shutters. City Z had a way of masking carnage, of tucking it into folds no outsider would ever notice.
Susan fell into step behind him, her cloak dragging grit. "You could've killed it sooner," she said, not as accusation but as observation.
Cain didn't slow. "I wanted it to show me its limits."
Hunter stalked along the opposite wall, eyes scanning, crossbow loose in his hands. "It wasn't at its limit."
"No." Cain's voice was steady. "But now I know."
