The rain had started again, a slow, relentless drizzle that turned Neon City's streets into slick rivers of grime. Max Hartwell trudged through the wet, his coat heavy with moisture, his mind sharper than ever. He and Elena had managed to bring in Navarro, but the answers she held were still locked behind her steely resolve.
They entered the precinct, water dripping from their clothes, each step echoing their determination. The buzz of activity was subdued, officers moving like shadows in the flickering fluorescent light. Max made a beeline for the interrogation room, Elena close on his heels.
Inside, Navarro sat shackled to the table, her eyes cold and calculating. She was a portrait of defiance, the wound in her shoulder a badge of her resilience. Max threw his coat over a chair, the wet fabric slapping against the wood.
He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "You've got one chance to come clean, Navarro. Make it count."