Flashing red and blue lights from dozens of cruisers bathed the skeleton of the abandoned skyscraper, stretching long, harsh shadows across the concrete.
The V.S.I. tactical team swarmed the roof, securing every square inch of the perimeter.
Zen was pinned hard against the dust-caked concrete. His hands were yanked behind his back, steel handcuffs locking his wrists tight. ฺBlood from the sniper wound in his left shoulder soaked through his tailored suit, dripping onto the floor and pooling into a dark stain.
The Reaper, who had once been so arrogant and immaculate, was now nothing more than a dust-covered stray dog.
"You are under arrest for transnational fraud, embezzlement, and attempted murder," the commanding officer barked, his voice carrying over the howling wind.
Two officers hauled Zen to his feet. His slender frame swayed, stripped of all strength.
Yet, his bloodshot, manic eyes searched for only one person. And he saw Ren standing a few yards away.
