The early morning light filtered through the grimy windows of the safehouse, casting a pale, sickly glow over the scattered documents. Max, Rachel, and Evelyn had been awake all night, combing through the evidence they had risked their lives to obtain. The tension in the room was palpable, each of them acutely aware of the stakes.
Max leaned over the table, his eyes bloodshot and weary. "We need to get this to the press and the feds. This is enough to start a firestorm."
Rachel nodded, her fingers still dancing over her laptop's keys. "I'm already setting up secure channels. We can't just drop this off at the nearest police station. Rourke's got his claws in too deep."
Evelyn sat back, loading her pistol with methodical precision. "They'll come after us hard. We need to be ready to move at a moment's notice."
