The city breathed a sigh of relief in the morning light, but for Max Hastings, the battle was far from over. The gritty streets, washed in a pale dawn, told stories of broken dreams and shattered lives. Max lit a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating the lines etched deeply into his face. He took a drag, the smoke curling around him like an old friend.
Victoria Thorne leaned against the doorway of their office, her eyes sharp, unwavering. "We've made a dent, Max, but Marlowe's warning still hangs over us. There are more players in this game."
Max exhaled slowly, his mind racing. "We need to find out who's backing Marlowe. Someone with deep pockets and even deeper connections."
Victoria nodded, her expression determined. "And I think I know where to start."
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