The rain had turned into a soft drizzle by the time Max Hartwell reached his apartment. Neon lights flickered through the murky windows, casting distorted reflections on the wet pavement below. The battle at the warehouse lingered in his mind, each memory a sharp blade slicing through his thoughts. Elena's betrayal was a wound that wouldn't heal, festering with every heartbeat.
Max threw his soaked coat over the back of a chair and poured himself a stiff drink. The burn of the whiskey was a fleeting comfort, doing little to ease the turmoil inside him. He slumped into his worn armchair, staring at the dim glow of the city outside. Neon City. A place where shadows had their own life, where the line between friend and foe was a murky blur.
His phone buzzed, dragging him from his reverie. It was a message from Violet: "Meet me at The Cat's Cradle. We need to talk."
