The city hadn't changed; it was still a labyrinth of dark alleys and broken dreams. Max Hastings stood by the window of his office, staring out at the neon-lit streets below. The rain had started again, tapping out a mournful rhythm against the glass. The bruises from his scuffle with Corsetti were still fresh, a reminder that victories in this city were as fleeting as the sunlight in a storm.
Elena sat at his desk, going through files. Her hair was tied back, revealing the hardened lines of her face, a testament to the battles they had fought together. The dim light from the desk lamp cast shadows that danced across her features, giving her an almost ethereal quality.
"We've dismantled most of Corsetti's network," Elena said, her voice breaking the silence. "But there are still pieces missing. Something doesn't add up."
