This headache has been coming on more and more frequently lately. It’s a stabbing migraine, the kind of sudden dizziness that leaves your brain rattling around in your head. It’ll pass.

Max sees your discomfort. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just a headache. We should stop and pick up some aspirin on the—HOLY FREAKING HELL …what happened to Harris?!” The agent is lying on the roof with an expression of horror across his face, spine twisted into a question mark, and a large bullet hole square between his eyes. And blood. Everywhere.

You can’t look away. The brutality… the utter grotesquerie... “I think I’m going to be sick,” you moan, and stagger, trembling, into Max’s embrace.

“Everything is fine, Laura,” he comforts. The wind is strong up here, but Max’s arms are stronger. He holds you tight and close, running his fingers through your hair. “Everything’s fine. Harris had an accident. He did that to himself. Everything’s fine.”

He steps back and looks into your eyes. “Now, let’s get off this building.”