Arkania’s winter arrived without warning.
Clara pulled her coat tighter as she left the police station, rain mixed with snow falling from the sky. She walked quickly with her head down to a corner café and ordered an Americano and a sandwich.
Three days. She had been in this unfamiliar city for three days.
Director Miller had arranged everything properly. She was now training under a new identity and had a better life.
The café door opened, and warm air mixed with the smell of coffee rushed out.
Clara sat in her usual seat by the window and instinctively scanned the café. Several men sat in the corner. One of them had his back to her—tall, with neatly styled hair. Her gaze lingered on him for a second before she looked away.
When her Americano arrived, a gunshot suddenly rang out out
