Chapter 24

The sun was rising over Olympus City, painting the smog-choked horizon in shades of bruised purple and industrial orange. Bullets were flying somewhere in the distance—the usual staccato rhythm of the morning commute—and on Julian Blade’s balcony, the rats were singing. Or they were trying to, until Jake started meowing. He leaned over the railing, his face set in a sour mask of boredom and lingering spite. He let out a sharp, guttural screech, a pitch-perfect imitation of a tomcat looking...