The click of the detonator didn’t sound like death. It sounded like a heavy deadbolt snapping shut.
Then, gravity simply ceased to exist.
The explosive charges rigged to the far end of the skybridge detonated in a blinding flash of orange heat. The massive steel cables holding the seventy-fifth floor to the adjacent tower snapped like cheap piano wire.
Jane didn’t scream. The ice-pick of her dissociation didn’t just slip—it shattered, completely overrun by a violent, chemical surge of adrenaline.
The bridge dropped.
The floor vanished beneath her flat boots. The wind instantly turned into a deafening roar, ripping the oxygen straight from her lungs. The neon grid of the city below blurred into a terrifying smear of light.
Michael didn’t reach for the railing. He didn’t scramble for p
