The city looked like a memory that refused to die.

From the top of the abandoned bridge, Amelia could see the skyline glimmering faintly through the fog towers half-lit, streets half-empty, and the pulse of something sinister running beneath the quiet. The rain had been falling since dawn, thin and relentless, washing the dirt from the concrete but not the ghosts.

She tightened the strap of her bag and whispered into her earpiece, though she knew there would be no response. “Alexander, I’m ...