The night clung to the city like a wet blanket, heavy and oppressive. Max Knight stared out from the small window of the safe house, his eyes tracing the neon-lit contours of a skyline that hid more secrets than it revealed. Below, the streets of the city teemed with life—stray cats, night workers, and the occasional beat cop, all oblivious to the silent war waged in the shadows.
Max turned back to the table, the documents spread out before him like pieces of a grim puzzle. Archer's information was good—too good, perhaps. Every lead had checked out, every name, every location. But trust was a luxury Max couldn't afford, especially with someone like Archer.
Elena leaned over the table, her fingers tracing the lines on a hastily sketched map. "This location," she said, pointing to a warehouse near the docks. "It's our best shot. High traffic, lots of cover. If they're moving something big, it'll be there."
