RESCUING WHITNEY

MAX POV

The rain was relentless, pattering against the windshield in steady streams. I tightened his grip on the steering wheel as I glanced at the dashboard map. Whitney's location flickered, a small green dot hiding in the maze of streets downtown. My team was scattered, each on a different route, converging silently toward her last known location. The tension in the air was palpable.

"Max, we're five minutes out," came Alya's voice over the earpiece, her words crisp but laced with concern. She was driving the van, carrying half the team. "What's the plan?"

I took a breath, running the plan through my head one more time. We did not have the luxury of failure. Whitney had gone dark after that last frantic message. Gregory's reach was long, and the Deputy Commissioner of Police was his puppet, leading a squad hunting her down like prey.