The restaurant was one of those places that required a referral to book a table, not because the food was exceptional but because the owner understood that privacy was the real luxury. Dayo arrived fifteen minutes early, dressed in a simple black suit that looked expensive without trying. Max and Bella were in a car two blocks away, tracking his phone, ready to move if the signal dropped or if Dayo sent the code phrase they had agreed on in the parking lot outside Luna's building.
Michael was already seated when Dayo entered the private dining room. The space was small a single table, six chairs, walls paneled in dark wood that swallowed sound. A window looked out onto an alley rather than the street, a design choice that prevented anyone from seeing in and, more importantly, prevented anyone inside from being seen.
