The sun hung low in the sky, casting the city in a blood-red glow that mirrored the violence that had taken place within its streets. Max and Vivian drove in silence, the cityscape slipping past like a flickering film reel of shadows and light. The safe house in the hills was their destination—a place where they could lick their wounds and plan their next move away from prying eyes.
Max's hands gripped the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity. The events of the past days played over and over in his mind like a broken record. The faces of the men they had killed haunted him, a grim reminder of the path they had chosen. But there was no turning back now. The city's fate hung in the balance, and they were its last hope.
Vivian sat beside him, her face a mask of exhaustion and determination. She glanced at Max, her eyes searching his for reassurance. "Do you think it'll ever end, Max?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
