The docks were a labyrinth of steel and shadows, the kind of place where the air tasted of salt and secrets. Max Hastings moved with purpose, his eyes scanning every shadow for the threat that lurked within. Beside him, Gabriel walked with a confidence that belied his position as their captive guide. Max kept his hand close to his gun, ready for anything.
Evelyn had taken the high ground, her silhouette barely visible against the industrial skyline. She was their overwatch, her rifle trained on the guards patrolling the docks. The silence between them was palpable, charged with the tension of impending violence.
"Remember, Gabriel," Max whispered, "one wrong move and you're the first to go down."
Gabriel smirked, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "You don't trust me, Hastings. I admire that."
