Chapter 1 – The Ring in the Pocket and the Shadow of the BusThe Chicago rain didn’t just fall; it wept, beating a relentless, heavy rhythm against the cracked aluminum roof of the bus shelter. My fingers were clamped so tightly around the velvet ring box in my coat pocket that the sharp edge of the hidden hinge bit directly into my palm.

the woman dying right in front of me.

The city bus had roared away into the grey mist, carrying Grace and my blood into the labyrinth of Chicago.

My phone had buzzed in my other pocket. Amelia’s text: Where are you? Everyone’s staring at me sitting alone. Answer your phone, Ryan.

I didn’t answer. I pulled out the velvet box, popped the lid open, and stared at the two-carat diamond solitaire catching the dismal fluorescent glow of a streetlamp. It looked cheap. It looked hollow. It looked like a monument