The drop lasts only a fraction of a second, but it feels like an eternity suspended between life and death.
Wind roars in my ears, freezing rain stinging my face as the dizzying void of Manhattan pulls us down into the grey mist. Then, with a violent, bone-rattling thud, our boots slam into the metal floor of the window-washing gantry.
The suspended platform violently jolts under our combined weight, screaming in mechanical protest as its steel cables snap taut against the storm winds.
I lose my footing instantly, my hands skidding across the slick aluminum deck. Enzo catches me around the waist with a suffocating, iron grip, pulling my back flush against his chest and pinning us both against the gantry’s reinforced safety railing thirty-seven stories above the street.
"I've got you!"
