I drove back to West Miami in a trance. My skin was stained with the very splatters of Saul’s blood. Vane’s cold, lethal twist played on a loop in my mind. The sound of the snap, the way Saul’s eyes had gone vacant.
I pulled the Corolla up to the curb of my apartment building. But the sidewalk wasn't empty.
Idling under a streetlamp was a machine that looked like it had been forged in the same dark furnace as the man sitting on it. It was a Combat Wraith, a custom-built powerhouse, trapped in a cage of steel.
Cane leaned over the tank, his massive body dwarfing the bike. He had changed into a clean black T-shirt. His hair was windswept, and his eyes, though brown again, held a slight glow of amber that suggested the beast was only inches beneath the surface.
"I told you I wasn't going
