Cassian’s POV

The fire ate through the night like a living thing.

Flames licked up the sides of the old warehouse, turning steel beams into torches, glass into shards of molten light. Smoke poured into the sky, thick and black, choking the stars. The heat pushed at my face, sweat soaking the collar of my shirt, but I didn’t step back.

I wanted to watch it burn.

The warehouse had been Reyes’s once, an old canning plant on the east side, gutted and repurposed to move shipments.

The walls had seen crates filled with weapons, drugs, and worse. Maybe even people. Now it was nothing but cinders.

Behind me, men...