The screech of sirens faded into the background as Claire and Mitchell bolted through the narrow alleys, the adrenaline from their narrow escape still coursing through their veins. The dim glow of the city's streetlights barely pierced the fog that clung to the streets, masking their movements as they raced deeper into the shadows. Their breaths came out in harsh gasps, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on them.
"We can't keep running like this," Mitchell muttered as they rounded another corner, slowing slightly to catch his breath. "Clarke has eyes everywhere."
Claire nodded, still clutching her gun tightly, her knuckles white from the grip. The agent's cold smile haunted her thoughts, a cruel reminder of just how close they'd come to being caught—or worse. "We need a new plan," she said, her voice hoarse. "If Clarke knew we were going to meet the Feds, then there's no safe way out of the city. We need to go underground—hit him where it hurts."
