CASSIAN
The bar was the kind of place people came to when they didn't want to be seen.
Dim lighting. Private booths tucked into shadowed corners. A clientele that minded their own business because they all had secrets of their own. No cameras. No questions. Just expensive whiskey and the quiet hum of white noise that swallowed conversations whole.
Perfect.
I sat in the back corner booth, nursing a glass of scotch, waiting.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown: Five minutes out.
I pocketed it and took another sip, letting the burn settle in my chest.
The meeting with Gerald Cho had gone exactly as planned. The property was mine. The paperwork would be finalized by end of day.
But that was just one piece.
One move on a board that was getting more crowded by the day.
