The city was a cacophony of sound and light, neon signs flickering in the rain like desperate pleas. Max Hartwell sat in his car, the engine idling. His eyes scanned the street, every shadow a potential threat. His thoughts churned, an uneasy mix of doubt and determination. Elena's revelation had shaken him, but it had also crystallized his resolve. The Syndicate's reach was vast, but they had to start somewhere.
He checked his watch. Elena was late. He didn't like it. Trust was a fragile thing in their world, and his with Elena was paper-thin. The rain pattered against the windshield, a constant reminder of the city's unrelenting despair.
A tap on the window jerked him from his thoughts. Elena stood there, her face obscured by the hood of her raincoat. He unlocked the door, and she slipped inside, bringing the cold and wet with her.
"Sorry," she said, her voice low. "Had to shake a tail."
