The rhythm of the city was uneven, a living, breathing organism draped in neon light and creeping darkness. James and his colleagues pushed on through the winding web of alleys, every step deliberate, every breath calculated. It was as though an invisible force pressed down the weight of the Syndicate's relentless pursuit upon them.
The ruined train station was the only place they had to regroup, but James knew it was at best a temporary sanctuary. The Syndicate was like a spider, with thousands of eyes. They would not cease until they had erased every trace of dissidence from the world.
Sarah shifted the strap of her backpack, her fingers trembling with fatigue and adrenaline. “We have to figure out how they keep tracking us,” she muttered. “Even when we change places, they reach us wit
