Thorne's POV
I watched from the shadowed alley above, concealed in the folds of darkness, as Tavany moved among them—others like her, anomalies who had learned to survive in the cracks of the world. She had insisted on meeting them herself, and though I had argued against it, I followed silently, unable to deny she had earned this moment.
The street was narrow and dimly lit by the flickering remains of a broken neon sign. Rain-slicked cobblestones reflected the faint light, scattering it like fractured glass. I caught the faint glow along Tavany’s hair, saw the taut confidence in her posture, the soft pulses of energy radiating from her. Every movement she made was deliberate, controlled, cautious. Even in her first steps among others, she commanded attention.
“Who are you?” a tall, lea
