Phoebe's POV
lan seemed to recognize the name too, though he couldn't quite place where he'd heard it. He glanced at me—I was equally lost in thought—then turned to Harold. "Mr. Bailey, did you guys take him out or what?" Mack must've had quite the price on his head to be worth this much trouble.
"Nah, he's still breathing—just barely," Harold said. "Why, you looking to finish the job yourself?"
lan brushed off the suggestion. "Hell no, I don't have time for that mess. Food's a much better investment."
If Malcolm had tracked Mack all the way back to Coralia, the guy was definitely no small-time player.
Still, lan had stepped away from that world and had zero interest in getting sucked back into the chaos.
Our conversation got interrupted as plates started appearing at the table. The topic naturally drifted away from business, and we settled into casual dinner talk. Malcolm even showed up partway through. "Perfect timing—I'm absolutely starving."
