Cain's boots crunched over shattered glass. The air reeked of burnt circuits and scorched concrete. Streetlights still flickered weakly, their pale glow stuttering like dying stars. City Z hadn't woken yet, but Cain knew it would. And when it did, the echoes of this night would crawl through every alley, every boardroom, every whispering corner of power.
Susan limped beside him, one arm clutched tight against her ribs. Her coat was in tatters, blood darkening the fabric in jagged blooms. "You think the grid will cover this up?" she asked, voice raw.
Cain didn't answer at first. He scanned the street, the abandoned cars, the broken neon signs buzzing faintly overhead. His blade was still sheathed but his hand rested on the hilt as if the night hadn't yet decided to leave him alone.
"They'll try," he said finally. "But this city's too old. Too loud. Secrets don't stay buried here. They rot. Then they rise."
Susan gave a tired, humorless laugh. "Like you, then."
