June’s Point of View
“We need to ask you a few questions.”
I froze.
The words slipped through the fog of the rooftop air like smoke, curling around my throat. I turned slowly to find two men in all-black suits, earpieces clipped to their ears, standing behind Dos—no, him—with unreadable expressions and steel in their eyes.
Dos didn’t move.
Didn’t flinch.
But his grip on my hand tightened, fingers locking like he was bracing for impact.
“What’s this about?” he asked, voice dangerously calm.
One of the men took a step forward. “Just a routine check. Mr. Cleverio has strict security procedures tonight.”
Another man appeared behind them. “We’d prefer to do this somewhere more… private.”
Private?
My stomach turned.
Dos glanced at me, then at them, and said in a low voice, “June, go
