Forty-eight hours.
That's what Hyena had given me.
It wasn't enough.
I let out a slow breath, eyes flicking to the cracked window, the dead street beyond it, and then to the board on the wall, strings like veins stretched over the photographs of families who didn't know they were still alive.
Strategist (Lv. 5) - Activated.
It was like a door opening in my mind.
Every piece of information I had about Hyena slid into place—his movements, patterns, weaknesses, the way he talked, the slight hesitation when he mentioned the families, the way he didn't bother hiding his goals because he thought no one could touch him.
The demands echoed in my head:
- Removal of sector borders.
- Ten million dollars.
- Police archive access.
- Mary Steward.
The last was off the table. But the first three? Grant was right; they were impossible.
But impossible didn't mean unworkable.