KANE

The world outside the precinct was a sea of flashing strobe lights and screaming voices. I stepped out onto the granite stairs, and the air hit me like a physical punch. It was cold, sharp, and tasted of exhaust and rain. I didn't look up. I couldn't. I kept my head down, my shoulders hunched, as my security detail cleared a path through the barricades.

"Murderer!" someone screamed from the front line of the protest.

"Wealth buys blood!" another voice roared, followed by the rhythmic ...