The city was a beast that never slept, its hunger for power and corruption insatiable. Max Hastings knew this as he navigated the darkened streets, the neon lights casting ghostly reflections on the wet pavement. The rain had become a constant companion, its rhythmic patter on his fedora a reminder of the ticking clock. Time was running out.
The seedy motel room where Vincent Moretti had been hiding was a claustrophobic cell, the air thick with cigarette smoke and fear. Moretti sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers drumming nervously on his knee. Max and Elena stood nearby, their silhouettes sharp against the dim light.
"You said you'd help," Max reminded him, his voice a low growl. "So start talking."
Moretti looked up, his eyes haunted. "The Cardinal… he's not just another crime boss. He's got the city in his pocket. Every politician, every cop, every judge. He's untouchable."
