The rain had let up, but the city was still drenched in the aftermath of the storm. Puddles dotted the streets, reflecting the harsh neon lights and casting twisted shadows that seemed to come alive. Max Hastings stood on the rooftop of an old tenement building, his trench coat flapping in the cold wind. He looked out over the city, a dark silhouette against the faint glow of dawn. The city was waking up, but for Max, sleep was a distant memory.
The press conference had been a success, but the fallout was immediate and brutal. Crane's men were scouring the city, and Max knew it was only a matter of time before they found him. The safe house was no longer safe. He needed a new plan, and fast.
Evelyn joined him on the rooftop, her face set in determined lines. "We can't stay here. They'll come for us."
