The rain started as a whisper, then quickly became a deluge, washing the grime from the city's bones. Max stood by the window of their temporary hideout, watching the streets glisten under the streetlights. The room was filled with the staccato rhythm of raindrops against the glass, a soothing counterpoint to the chaos that had engulfed their lives.
Vivian was at the table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of her. She was nursing a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily towards the ceiling. Elena was on the couch, poring over a map spread across her lap. They were planning their next move, but the atmosphere was thick with unspoken fears.
Max turned from the window, his gaze lingering on Vivian. She looked up, meeting his eyes with a weary smile. "Penny for your thoughts?"
