The sun dipped below the jagged skyline, leaving the Apollo redevelopment site in a state of unnatural, bruised purple twilight. The skeletal remains of the half-built towers rose like the ribs of a fallen giant, and for the first time since the project began, the air was devoid of the roar of engines. It was the stillness of a battlefield before the first charge—a silence that felt heavy, intentional, and cold.
Dante stood on a raised concrete slab, his coat fluttering slightly in the wind. He was a silhouette of absolute stillness, his eyes tracking the shadows of the crane arms overhead.
A shadow detached itself from a nearby pillar. It was one of the site’s plainclothes security, leaning in to whisper. "Miss Emilia has reached the estate, sir. Lucas confirmed the perimeter is locked.
