The rain hadn't stopped.
It came down harder now, washing the city in a ceaseless rhythm that drowned out everything else. From the rooftop of Invoke Tower, the skyline was a shifting sea of glass and light, blurred behind the storm. Wind tore at Merlin's coat, dragging at his hair, but he didn't move.
He stood near the ledge, eyes narrowed, watching the faint glow of a landing pad across the tower. A single figure stood there, Damien Cross. No guards. No backup. Just him, umbrella held loosely in one hand, untouched by the chaos.
Merlin approached.
Each step echoed faintly over the pounding rain, the sound carried by wind and lightning. When he reached the midpoint, Damien turned.
"Mr. Everhart," he greeted, voice steady, perfectly audible despite the storm. "You made better time than I expected."
Merlin stopped a few meters away. His gaze was sharp, his tone quiet. "You knew I'd come."
