Fenrir didn't touch the tea. He leaned back in his chair, eyes calmly watching the room. Something was off. Too friendly. Too convenient.
He tapped his fingers against the table once, then twice.
"Zerg, get ready to leave soon."
He said without moving his gaze,
Zerg looked up.
"Trouble?"
"Likely."
Marthis, who had been sneaking another glance from behind the doorway, froze when Fenrir's voice echoed through the restaurant. That tone. Cold. Unamused. Knowing.
Three more minutes had passed.
Still no sign of the authorities.
He turned back to his phone and sent a quick message:
[Where are you? They're getting suspicious!]
The reply came instantly:
[Two more minutes. Just hold them a bit longer.]
Marthis grit his teeth, whispering under his breath.
"They're going to get me killed."
Back at the table, Fenrir slowly stood up, brushing his coat off.
Zerg glanced around.
"Not staying for more dessert?"
Fenrir's eyes were locked on the kitchen entrance.
