The woman moved with liquid grace, her posture radiating confidence with each step. Even from across the room, I could feel something different about her—a presence that made the air around us seem thicker, charged with invisible energy. She wore simple dark jeans and a fitted black top, but somehow managed to look like she owned the entire diner.
Jace straightened almost imperceptibly, his jaw tightening as he tracked her approach. "Lena," he greeted, his voice neutral but with an undercurrent of tension I hadn't heard before.
The woman—Lena—stopped at our table, her lips curving into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Jace," she replied, before her gaze shifted to me. Her eyes narrowed slightly, assessing, calculating. "And you must be Anna."
My stomach dropped. She knew my na
