Three days had passed since the raid on the Founders' facility.
Stone sat alone on the roof of the safe house, the cold wind cutting through his jacket, his eyes fixed on the city skyline. The sun was setting, painting the glass towers in shades of orange and red. It should have been beautiful. Instead, it just looked like fire.
Below him, the others were resting, healing, trying to piece together what was left of their lives. Wrench was in the kitchen, his arm in a sling, his daughter Lily sitting beside him, her face bright with the joy of having her father alive. Hayes was in the corner, his eyes closed, his breathing steady. The Handler stood guard, his massive frame a silent sentinel.
Elena appeared on the rooftop, her footsteps silent on the gravel. She sat down beside him, her bo
