Max stood at the window of the safe house, gazing out at the city's skyline, a jagged silhouette against the burgeoning dawn. The first light of morning struggled to pierce through the ever-present smog, casting a sickly yellow hue over the buildings. The city was waking up, but it was a restless awakening, one filled with the echoes of the night's sins.
He turned away, the faint light catching the edges of his tired features. His eyes, though shadowed by exhaustion, were sharp, filled with the resolve of a man who had seen too much but refused to give in. Vivian was at the table, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands. Elena was bent over the pile of documents Max had retrieved from the warehouse, her eyes scanning the pages with methodical precision.
"We've got enough here to cause a real stir," Elena said, her voice a low murmur in the quiet room. "Bank accounts, shipment logs, names… This could bring down more than just Tony's operation."
