The dawn broke over the city like a half-remembered dream, the weak light struggling to penetrate the heavy shroud of fog that clung to the streets. Max and Vivian sat in the back of a nondescript sedan, their eyes bleary from lack of sleep. Harris drove, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. The city around them seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable, as if it knew what was coming.
Max's side throbbed with a dull ache where The Wolf's bullet had grazed him. He absently pressed a hand to the wound, feeling the sticky warmth of his own blood. They needed a place to regroup, somewhere safe where they could tend to their wounds and plan their next move.
"Where are we headed?" Max asked, his voice rough from the night's exertions.
Harris didn't take his eyes off the road. "Safe house on the east side. Old contact of mine runs it. Should be secure for a few hours at least."
