"Callighan," Liam called out from behind Mei as she reached the bottom of the staircase. "I brought her."
When he spoke those words, the man standing in the center of the room—Callighan himself—turned around slowly to face them.
Mei looked at him directly, looking the person she'd heard so much about from Ryan's descriptions and warnings.
She wasn't going to deny that she'd been genuinely curious to finally see this man that Ryan had spoken of with such concern—the murderer who'd apparently killed hundreds and was terrorizing survivors throughout Atlantic City.
He was a tall man, probably in his mid-thirties based on his weathered features and bearing. He had a lean but clearly muscular figure—the build of someone who'd maintained military fitness standards and combat readiness rather than just casual strength.
