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KANE I’ve been on edge ever since Dahlia disappeared from my side. A lingering discomfort has been wrapped around my throat like a noose, tightening further the more she doesn’t answer my calls. Or texts. I drive to the lab, breaking all the speed limits. The place feels abandoned by the time I get there. The icy wind blows away the naked branches from the closest tree. My steps are careful as I study my surroundings as if expecting a sneak attack. It’s been a long time since I’ve had this feeling—the unsettling reality closing in on me. The invisible eyes lurking, watching, planning to set me on fucking fire. I stand in the middle of the empty parking lot, but I can see the shadows spilling, stalking, and multiplying. Over the past few years, I’ve stopped having this sense of dread. Of the unknown. Of the next mission. Of whether or not we’ll find Preston dead in a ditch somewhere. Because I took control of my life. I had a plan to topple Grant, take over, and mold Vencor according to