The streets were slick with rain, the neon lights of the city reflected in the oily puddles that pooled in the gutters. Max trudged through the downpour, collar turned up against the chill, his steps heavy with the weight of the night's events. Emily walked beside him, silent as the shadows that clung to the alleyways.
The warehouse had been a battleground, the echoes of gunfire still ringing in their ears. Vincent was dead, but the city remained, a living, breathing beast with its own brand of justice. Max knew they were far from done, far from finding the peace they sought.
"Where do we go from here, Max?" Emily's voice cut through the drumming rain, her gaze searching his face for answers.
Max shook his head, the raindrops mingling with the tears he refused to shed. "I don't know, Em. But we keep moving forward. We keep fighting."
