The morning fog clung to the city like a guilty conscience, obscuring the sun and casting a pall over the streets. Max Hartwell trudged through the mist, his mind a labyrinth of suspicions and half-formed plans. The air was damp and heavy, a fitting backdrop for the grim reality of their situation.
Back at the office, Carmen Alvarez was already at her desk, a scowl etched on her face. Her fingers tapped restlessly on her coffee cup, the tension between them a tangible force. Max threw his coat over the back of a chair and sat down, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of their traitor's influence.
"We need to talk to Gina again," Carmen said, breaking the silence. "We need every detail she can give us about the Syndicate's operations."
Max nodded, his thoughts drifting back to the previous night's confrontation. Gina's desperation had been palpable, her fear genuine. But trust was a fragile thing, and once broken, it was difficult to mend.
