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The rooftop was a moonscape of tar and gravel, but the view was everything. The whole town sprawled below—the tiny cars, the rectangular houses, the glittering line of the river. They were kings of nothing, and it felt like everything.

The crack widened. A puff of icy, stale air erupted from it—the opposite of the summer heat. And from deep, deep down in the darkness of the crack, they heard it. Not a machine. A whisper. A single, sibilant word that sounded like their names layered on top of each other. 2crazy14oldchickz1 full