The rain had returned with a vengeance, drumming a relentless beat on the roof of the safe house. Max Slade stared out the window, the city a blur of neon lights and shadowy figures. The Architect. The name hung heavy in the air, a specter of menace and mystery. Max's mind churned with plans, each one more desperate than the last.
His reverie broke when Mia stepped into the room, her face drawn with fatigue. "Max, we've got something," she said, holding up a flash drive.
Max turned, eyes narrowing. "What is it?"
Mia plugged the drive into a laptop, the screen flickering to life. "Data from the warehouse. It's a list of safe houses, meeting spots, and names. We might have a lead on the Architect."
Max's pulse quickened. "Show me."
The screen filled with addresses and code names. One name stood out: Elias Richter, an old contact with ties to the underworld. If anyone could lead them to the Architect, it was Richter.
