Lena's POV
Victor said: "I know about the plan, Lena. And I know you're wearing a wire."
The restaurant was warm and quiet — the kind of place that did breakfast for people who had money and time and wanted both to be invisible. White tablecloths, low conversation, the smell of good coffee and something baking. Victor had chosen well. Of course he had.
He sat across from me with his charming, calibrated smile and his two men now flanking the table and said the two sentences that should have undone everything.
I looked at him.
"I'm not wearing a wire," I said.
True. We hadn't had time.
Something shifted in his expression — just a fraction. He'd been expecting denial, but not the particular quality of mine. Flat and immediate and entirely undefended.
"The open phone line then," he sa
