After Francesca left, Julian went somewhere.

The rooftop of Fullham Tower.

The night wind tore through the air, catching the hems of two black coats, making them billow like hunting eagles poised under the dark canopy of the sky. Neither man conceded an ounce of ground or aura.

Julian lit a stark white cigarette against the wind, the flame flickering briefly before it caught. Taking a deep drag, his lean face hollowed under the strain, sharpening the ...