The old foundry looked like a carcass left behind by a dying city, rusted beams jutting out like broken ribs, shattered windows staring blankly into the night, and the blackened roof sagging as though it remembered every fire that had ever eaten through its bones.

Carson hated this place.

He’d spent half his childhood trying to forget it…

and his father had chosen it deliberately.

Rain collected in shallow puddles along the cracked concrete as Carson stepped into the open yard, boots ...