He had noticed it while eating—the way certain merchants moved, the flick of their fingers, the quick nods exchanged between seemingly unrelated customers. Not unusual for a black-market hub like Luthadel, but these weren't simple bartering gestures. These were signals. Practiced, precise.
Information flowed here just as much as goods did, and not all of it was legal.
"We need to dig deeper," he said, fingers idly spinning the badge between them. "And I have a fun little idea."
Lira sighed, rubbing her temple as if already regretting whatever was about to come out of his mouth. "That always means trouble."
Vyrelda leaned back in her chair, watching him with a mix of amusement and skepticism. "Are you going to explain, or should we prepare for whatever ridiculous scheme you've come up with this time?"
Mikhailis feigned a wounded look. "Ridiculous? Vyrelda, you wound me."
"I doubt it," she muttered.
