The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, sinister shadows across the city streets. Max Hastings sat in the dingy safe house, the weight of their recent victory settling heavily on his shoulders. The air was thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and desperation, a potent mix that had become all too familiar.
Evelyn paced the small room, her movements restless and tense. "We might have won the battle, Max, but the war is far from over. The Syndicate's not going to take this lying down."
Max nodded, his eyes scanning the room, every creak and whisper magnified in his mind. "I know. They'll regroup, strike back harder. We need to stay ahead of them."
Evelyn stopped, her eyes locking onto Max's. "We need to find the mole. Someone fed them information about our moves. They knew where to hit us."
