Max Slade watched the city from his rooftop vantage point, the neon lights casting a sickly glow over the streets below. The rain had stopped, leaving the air thick with humidity and the scent of wet asphalt. He lit a cigarette, the flare of the lighter briefly illuminating his weary face. The smoke curled upwards, mingling with the heavy air.
"Max," Mia's voice crackled through his earpiece. "We've got movement at the warehouse on 14th. Intel says it's a major meeting tonight."
Max exhaled slowly, the smoke a thin wisp in the night air. "Copy that. Keep eyes on it. I'm heading over."
He extinguished the cigarette under his heel and made his way down the fire escape. The city hummed with life, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath its surface. Max's thoughts were a whirlwind of strategies and plans. Vincent was still out there, and now they knew about the mole. The betrayal cut deep, but they had to stay focused.