[147 Days Left to Live]
Reynold Draven sat behind his desk, the soft blue glow of multiple monitors painting his tired face in a cold light. The reports he had poured over for hours blurred together, lines of data and maps no longer sharp in his mind.
He leaned back, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a sigh that carried the weight of exhaustion and frustration. It had been days since the failed attempt to capture Barmon Diamond at the Diamond Hotel. And since then, Reynold hadn't allowed himself a proper break.
He had thrown every resource he had into tracking Barmon down: local informants, satellite imaging, cross-agency collaboration. But nothing. Not a trace. Barmon had vanished like smoke.
Reynold stared at the map pinned to his wall, dozens of red pins marking possible sightings and abandoned safehouses. His jaw tightened. None of them led to anything substantial.
