- SERAPHINE
The Old Wynther Clock Tower was a relic of a different era—all jagged stone, rusted gears, and the kind of height that made your inner ear scream. It sat on the edge of the industrial district, a lonely spike against the midnight sky.
The wind up here didn't just bite; it gnawed. I stood on the observation deck, my breath hitching in little white clouds. I knew Declan was out there. Somewhere in the dark, he had a lens on me. Probably a few of his guys, too, tucked into the shadows of the surrounding warehouses. That thought was the only thing keeping my knees from knocking.
"I'm here, Caspian!" I shouted into the wind.
Nothing. Only the low, rhythmic thrum of the massive clock gears behind the stone wall.
Then, my burner phone buzzed. A text from the unknown number.
[W]
