Chapter 283: Veins of the City

The rain had stopped, but the city was still drenched, soaked to the bone with the kind of damp that seeped into your soul. Max Hastings stood on the roof of a dilapidated building, looking down at the tangled streets below. The neon signs flickered, casting lurid reflections on the wet pavement. Somewhere, a siren wailed, a mournful cry that seemed to echo the city's perpetual despair.

"Moretti," Max muttered to himself, the name tasting bitter on his tongue. Victor Moretti was a ghost, a phantom lurking in the city's shadows, pulling strings from the darkness. If they could take him down, maybe—just maybe—the city could breathe again.

Victoria Thorne climbed up to the roof, her eyes scanning the horizon. "What now, Max? We know Moretti's involved, but he's like smoke. Hard to catch and even harder to hold."

Max turned to her, his eyes hard. "We need to draw him out. Make him come to us."

Victoria raised an eyebrow. "And how do you propose we do that?"