The city never sleeps, and neither does its darkness. The streets glistened with a recent rain, each puddle reflecting the neon lights like liquid fire. Max Hastings trudged through the night, his trench coat heavy with the weight of what he had just uncovered. The confrontation at the factory had shifted the game, but Max knew it was far from over.
As he approached his office, a sense of unease washed over him. The usual bustle of late-night traffic seemed subdued, as if the city itself was holding its breath. He reached for the doorknob, but the door swung open before he could touch it.
Elena stood there, her face pale and eyes wide with worry. "Max, we need to talk."
Max nodded, stepping inside. The office felt colder than usual, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls. "What is it?"
