Chapter 2The little bistro was tucked away in a southern corner of Pasadena. Hidden by pillars and ivy, there was a quiet intimacy about the place, something for which Ethan was thankful. A host at the entry way led them to the farthest table in the back, where the light was dim and the tables around theirs were empty. Ethan had been wearing his usual disguise for the real world: a simple ball cap, sunglasses, and a dirty, beat up old jacket. Not a single pair of eyes looked at him twice.
“Ah, there you are. I was just about to text you.”
The man who spoke stood from the table and opened his arms wide. Smiling, Ethan embraced his uncle and took off his glasses. He turned to Finn. “This is him,” he said. “Finn, this is my uncle, Nik Teller. Uncle Nik, Finn Phelps.”
Nik held out his hand,
