AUTHOR'S POV

The rain had turned into a relentless, icy deluge by the time the prisoner transport van pulled away from the precinct. The city lights blurred into long, distorted smears of neon against the black asphalt. Inside the reinforced steel cage of the vehicle, Zane Callahan sat huddled, his hands cuffed to a belly chain, his expensive suit now a wrinkled rag of defeat. But even in the dim, flickering light of the cabin, his eyes hadn't lost their feverish, manic edge. He was already ...