The sun had barely set when Max, Rachel, and Evelyn regrouped. The safe house was a haven of shadows, the curtains drawn tight against the prying eyes of the world outside. Max stood by the window, peering through a sliver in the fabric at the city below. It was a city that never slept, where danger lurked in every alley and corruption festered in the brightest of places.
Rachel was at the table, poring over maps and documents they had taken from Ricci. Evelyn was cleaning her rifle, her movements methodical and precise. The air was thick with tension and the faint scent of smoke from their recent raid. They had hit Ava hard, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough until she was behind bars or six feet under.
"We hit Dahlia's, but it's just one of many," Max said, breaking the silence. "Ava's operations are like a hydra. Cut off one head, two more take its place."
