The city was a jigsaw puzzle of light and darkness, each piece locked in an eternal struggle. Dawn broke, not with the promise of a new beginning, but with the weight of the past heavy in its light. Max Knight stood by the window of the safe house, the world outside a murky blur of motion and sound. The streets were alive with the echoes of their nocturnal skirmishes, the ripples of their actions spreading through the city's corrupt veins.
Vivian poured herself a coffee, the bitter aroma cutting through the tension. "You think it's enough?" she asked, her voice a whisper against the backdrop of the waking city.
Max turned from the window, his eyes dark and thoughtful. "It's a start," he replied, taking the cup she offered. "But Isabella and Greco won't just roll over. They're cornered, and that makes them dangerous."
