The burned scrap trembled in Jack’s fingers. The firelight from the smoldering subway tunnel danced across the ink like a curse.
Five targets.
Emily's voice was a whisper. “George didn’t just plan for chaos. He wanted total collapse.”
The wind howled low between the buildings. Sirens blared distantly, growing quieter, like the city was running out of breath.
Suddenly, the silence broke.
Footsteps. Slow. Steady. Unhurried.
From the smoke and ruin of the subway’s edge, a hunched figure emerged. Dressed in ragged brown layers, a tattered wide-brimmed hat shading his face.
Jack’s breath caught. “No… No way.”
Sarah stood. “Who the hell is—”
But Jack was already moving. Dropping the scorched paper. Eyes wide, disbelieving.
“Old Joe?”
The man looked up.
The same sunken eyes. That croo
