Chapter 107 Threats Dressed In Politeness

• The café looks as luxurious as I remember. Everything gleams, from the marble-topped tables to the crystal chandeliers that seem to mock the morning light streaming through tall windows.
• Anastasiya sits across from me, perfectly poised in pale pink as she stirs her tea. The spoon never clicks against the mug—she’s too well-trained for such common sounds. Between us, untouched pastries grow stale on delicate plates while conversation drifts like smoke, pleasant and meaningless.
• I’m hyper-aware of Tavin standing at his post near the door, though I pretend not to be. We haven’t spoken more than necessary pleasantries in the week since… since that morning in the kitchen. Outside, Alek waits with the car, ever vigilant. But it’s Tavin’s presence that makes every breath feel like drowning.