Evelyn’s POV
The sky was still bruised from last night’s storm when our convoy rolled out of the Hartman estate. A dull silver washed over the city, turning Brooklyn’s industrial edges into a watercolour of steel and smoke.
In the passenger seat, I rolled the sleeves of my jacket and tried to ignore the way my pulse argued with the rhythm of the tires.
Luca, ever the definition of calm, handled the wheel with easy precision. His expression stayed neutral but his eyes scanned each passing block like a security camera that happened to breathe.
I watched him for a while before saying quietly, “You realize we could be walking into another setup.”
“I’m counting on it,” he replied. “It’ll make catching them easier.”
“You really have a problem with being normal.”
“Normal people get blindsi
