The rain began to fall, a relentless drumming that drowned the city in a symphony of sorrow. Max Hartwell leaned against the doorway of his office, the neon lights casting garish reflections on the slick pavement. The battle with the Syndicate had taken its toll, but tonight, the city itself felt like an accomplice to their struggle, shrouding everything in a cloak of gloom.
Inside, Carmen Alvarez was poring over the files they had confiscated from the warehouse. Her brow was furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. Gina sat across from her, nervously tapping her fingers on the table. Max could sense the tension in the room, a tight coil of unease that threatened to snap at any moment.
"We have to follow up on these leads," Carmen said, breaking the silence. "The list of safe houses, the names—we need to move fast."
