Chapter Fifty-three
The Rescue
The rain did not stop. It became a heavy, roaring sheet of grey water that flooded the gutters of New York and turned the manicured lawns of the Knights estate into a swamp of thick, black mud. Inside the library, the atmosphere was suffocating. The air smelled of cold coffee, burning paper, and the sharp, chemical scent of electronic tracking equipment.
Alexander did not sit down. He had taken off his wet suit jacket, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows. The veins in his forearms stood out like thick, twisted ropes, and his fingers were constantly clenched into heavy fists. He looked like the man he used to be before the hospital—a cold, terrifying force of nature that would flatten anything in its way.
Harrison sat at the wooden tab
