A few hours later, Bramford looked even worse from above.
Victor was sitting on the edge of the tallest building in the city, an old administrative tower built near the center, high enough to see the port, the warehouses, the crooked streets, and the dark strip of sea in the distance. The building had damp stone, a slanted roof, and an old bell that probably had not rung in decades. Even so, it was a good observation point. From there, he could see almost all the main routes without needing to stand in the middle of the mess.
The city was pretending normality.
That was what irritated him.
