The world came back to Gray in fragments.

First: sound — the brittle crackle of dying circuits, the slow drip of water from a ruptured pipe. Then light — not steady, but pulsing, strobing through the wreckage of what had once been the safehouse’s control hub.

He coughed, the taste of copper thick in his mouth, and pushed himself upright. The smell of ozone lingered, sharp and acrid. Every monitor was shattered, the consoles fused into melted plastic and glass. The EMP charge had done ...