Wednesday night pressed down on Atlanta with a heavy stillness—the kind that came before a storm. The rain had held off all day, leaving the air thick and charged, the city lights below the condo windows sharp against the dark. David stood on the balcony with a glass of water, looking out over the skyline that now fed his empire. The numbers in the Codex had grown again today, but the weight of tomorrow's hearing for Mark Harper hung in the air like the humidity.
He had spent the day in quiet preparation with the circle.
