Miguel was on a call with Ash.
"What's the latest?" He asked, hoping for some good news.
"You’re not gonna like this," Ash said.
Miguel’s grip tightened around the phone. "Just say it."
"The bartender," Ash said. "The one we were supposed to bring in? He’s dead."
Miguel went still for a moment. His free hand curled into a fist on the desk.
"What do you mean he's dead? Where? And how did you find out?" Miguel asked, his tone sharper than usual.
Ash hesitated for a moment. "Near the club," she finally said. "We got a call from the owner. When we arrived, the body had already been discovered. No one knows what happened or how."
Miguel took a slow, deep breath, gripping the edge of his desk. His jaw tightened. He and Ash didn’t need to say much—they both knew exactly what this meant.
