It was her.

Clear eyes.

Hair tied back with a cheap elastic.

Hands roughened by the friction of survival.

Chapter 2 — The Ghosts of Queens

“Roderick, where are you?

You’re a thousand miles away.” Delphine’s voice snapped the memory in half, and I blinked and swallowed the phantom taste of Queens tap water and lied smoothly that I was only turning over an acquisition in my head.

She purred that I should leave the deals for tomorrow, leaned her head against my shoulder for a passing camera, and told me she had already messaged a few friendly journalists to make sure we got good placement.