The rain was coming down in sheets, turning the city streets into slick, neon-lit rivers. Clara didn't feel the freezing downpour soaking through her thin jacket. She didn't feel the ache in her shoulder from the heavy duffel bag. She only felt the frantic, erratic beating of her own heart, a drum d

The rain did not fall; it attacked. It lashed against the cracked pavement of the city's abandoned freight-and-transit station, stinging Clara’s cheeks like shards of glass. Thunder rolled through the marrow of her bones, drowning out the frantic, ragged gasps tearing from her throat. Her boots spla

Julian Thorne stood on the rain-slicked concrete, watching the silver train disappear into the maw of the underground tunnel. The red taillights bled into the darkness, shrinking to pinpricks before vanishing entirely.

He didn't move. He let the storm rage around him, the icy water soaking through