The Widow’s Blood Debt
POV: Leo Dante Moretti
The first light of dawn hit the glass walls of the Moretti-Vane Tower, turning the executive suite into a cathedral of gold and obsidian. I stood at the window, my hands clasped behind my back, watching the city wake up. From this height, the world looked like a sprawling, intricate circuit board. Below, the yellow cabs moved like white blood cells through the stone arteries of New York, and the East End docks were already alive with the mechanical, rhythmic ballet of the massive automated cranes.
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