I knocked three times, a quick, sharp rhythm that Alina would recognize.

The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

Alina stood there, holding a stack of clean white aprons.

Her eyes widened when she saw my soaked hair and the mud on my jeans.

“Mara?” she whispered, pulling me inside by my wet sleeve. “What happened to you?”

She looked past me at Bishop, who slipped into the warm kitchen without a sound.

“I was followed,” I said, my voice cracking.

“By who?” Alina asked, locking the heavy door behind us.

“I don’t know,” I said, leaning against the stainless-steel prep table to catch my breath. “Men with flashlights.”

Alina grabbed a dry towel and threw it over my shoulders.

“You’re freezing,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “You need to leave before the manager sees you.”

“Is Lucian here?” I asked.

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

“He’s in the private dining room upstairs,” she said. “But you can’t just go up there, Mara.”

“I have to,” I said.

I reached into my pocket and felt the cold plastic of the flash drive.