The Verge never truly slept, but that night it stirred with a new rhythm. Lights blinked from windows like eyes refusing to close, alleys pulsed with whispers, and somewhere a group of children howled from a rooftop, their voices thin but proud. The sound carried into the safehouse through cracks in the brick and over the rain-beaten roof.
Aria sat at the table, Cassia’s slim drive in front of her, its dull casing glinting faintly with promise. Her wounds ached, bandages damp, but her eyes were sharp, gold flecks burning in the low light. Around her, the pack moved like different parts of a body: Kellen hunched over his nest of screens, Aries leaning against the wall, Dominic pacing slow and deliberate, Vincent cleaning a blade that didn’t need it.
“Got it,” Kellen muttered, his voice cu
