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Chapter 41: Do we really?
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Chapter 43: Greater Good
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... in my hand. The beam cut through the dark in narrow slices, sweeping shelves, counters, shattered glass. Every step felt wrong—too loud, too deliberate—as if the building itself was listening.
That noise again.
Wet. Rhythmic. Like something being torn apart with patience.
My grip tightened as I followed it, heart pounding hard enough to make my ears ring. The air smelled coppery now. Sweet and rotten all at once.
I rounded the aisle—
—and froze.
T ...
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