The city wore its temporary optimism like an ill-fitting coat. The streets, though buzzing with renewed energy, still hid the dark undercurrents of desperation and decay. Max Knight stood in the doorway of his office, watching the city through a veneer of rain-streaked glass. His reflection stared back, a shadowy figure with eyes that had seen too much.
"You're thinking too loud again," Vivian's voice cut through the haze. She leaned against the doorway, her presence a comforting counterbalance to the weight of his thoughts.
Max turned, a sardonic smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Old habits."
Vivian stepped inside, her heels clicking softly on the worn wooden floor. "We've done good, Max. But you're still brooding."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not over. Greco and Isabella were just the visible parts of the iceberg. There's something deeper, something we missed."
