- Roxy Delgado:
We ran after Sloane as fast as we could, every one of us tearing through the dark like hounds after something that had slipped its leash. The city turned to a smear of streetlight and shadow, my lungs burned so hard I thought they would split, and still she was fast—faster than any of us expected.
She moved with a kind of panicked, precise grace, the way someone who runs for exercise does: efficient, economical, able to find the path that wastes the least energy. Not even Mateo, who can close distance like a storm, could catch her. She was gone from our reach in a breath.
