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From her hiding spot in a narrow alley between two collapsed market stalls, Raven watched the entire scene unfold like a masterclass in political theater. She pressed her back against the cool stone wall, her cat-like eyes tracking every movement in the square while her mind cataloged each detail.
Brilliant, she thought, admiration and disgust warring in her chest. Absolutely brilliant.
Jack stood in the center of the destruction like a golden retriever who'd brought home a dead bird, confused by the lack of praise for his obvious success. His blue hair caught the light filtering through the dust clouds, and even from a distance, Raven could see the bewildered hurt in his expression. He'd done exactly what the heroes in her children's stories were supposed to do, defeat the villains, save the innocent—yet somehow he'd become the villain in his own story.
