Page 53 of The Devil's Thorn
But none of them matter. Not when the only one I canfeelwatching me is already waiting.
Rafael sits at his usual table. Corner booth. Best view.
Flanked by shadows and men in expensive suits who laugh too loudly and drink too slowly. The kind of men who hold power in the way they flick an ash tray or nod to a server.
Nikolai is there too, as always. Calm. Silent. Razor-sharp behind the eyes.
I walk to the table, keeping my gaze steady. Rafael’s fingers are resting on the base of a crystal glass, his thumb circling the rim once, slowly, like he’s waiting for something to begin.
He looks up as I approach. And Iknowhe knows.
He’s already watching me before I stop at the edge of the table, nodding once, waiting for the orders.
He doesn’t speak.
He just lifts his glass slightly—silent instruction.
I take the request like I’m used to it, even though every time he does it, it feels like a game he’s winning.
I turn without a word and head for the bar.
When I return, drinks balanced neatly on the tray, Rafael’s leaning back in the booth while the others talk. I set the drinks down silently, letting the men murmur thanks or not at all.
Rafael takes his without breaking eye contact with the man across from him.
Then I move behind him. My place. At his shoulder.
Silent. Still.
Listening.
“—the shipment moved out of Belgium on Tuesday,” the man across from him says, swirling amber liquid in a glass that probably cost more than most people’s rent. “I spoke to Anton myself. It was clean.”
Rafael doesn’t blink. “And Paris?”
The man hesitates.
Nikolai shifts beside him.
“Paris was… delayed.”
“Delayed how?”
“A few of the customs agents asked questions.”
“Did they get answers?”
“No.” The man swallows. “But someone’s asking on the Italian side.”
My pulse tightens.
Paris.
It’s the second time I’ve heard that in a week.
The first time was when Nikolai whispered it into Rafael’s ear before he stood and ended the night without warning.
And now it’s here again, wrapped in lies and hesitation and too many eyes glancing in every direction but mine.
