Evelyn’s POV
The convoy crawled through the wet streets of Brooklyn until dawn bruised the skyline purple. The storm had thinned to mist, and the air smelled of electricity and smoke from the warehouse we’d left behind.
No one spoke. The silence in Luca’s SUV felt like a cease‑fire you didn’t trust to last.
The wipers beat a slow rhythm. Rain streaked across the windshield in crooked lines, like half‑erased sentences. I leaned my head against the glass, watching streetlights bend across puddles.
Luca finally said, “You shouldn’t have agreed to work with him.”
“He’s the only one who can reach Victor,” I answered. “He knows the inside of that monster’s machine.”
“Yeah,” Luca said, low. “Because he built part of it.”
He kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight. The reflection of the city
