The safe house was shrouded in a thick veil of smoke from Max's incessant chain-smoking. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in. Max lay on the bed, his bandaged side a constant reminder of their narrow victory. The room's single light bulb flickered intermittently, casting eerie shadows that danced along the peeling wallpaper.
Vivian stood by the window, her silhouette framed against the neon-lit skyline. She turned to Max, her face etched with concern. "Max, you need rest. Pushing yourself like this isn't going to help anyone."
Max exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes hard. "Rest? In this city? We're in the middle of a storm, Viv. And it's not going to calm down until we tear out every rotten root."
Elena entered the room, a stack of files clutched in her hands. "We've identified more of Marcus and Isabella's network. Politicians, business tycoons, even some supposedly clean cops. They're all tangled up in this mess."
