He looked at me, then down at the wet dog under the table.

“The boss wants to see you,” Victor said.

His voice was flat, devoid of any warmth or emotion.

“Now, Mara.”

I looked at Alina, who gave me a small, cautious nod.

I took a deep breath and squeezed the flash drive inside my pocket.

“Lead the way,” I said.

Victor turned without another word and walked down the dimly lit corridor.

I followed him, Bishop rising from the floor to walk right at my heel.

The restaurant was quiet, the jazz music from the front dining room faded to a low hum.

We climbed the narrow wooden stairs to the private second floor.

Victor stopped outside a heavy mahogany door at the end of the hall.

He knocked once, then opened it, gesturing for me to enter.

The room inside was dark, lit only by a single green shaded lamp on a massive oak desk.

Lucian Draven sat behind the desk, a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

He looked up as I entered, his dark eyes instantly fixing on my wet clothes.