[Jake's POV]
The basement of the Golden Koi safehouse was built for conversations no one was supposed to hear.
Concrete walls. No windows. One steel door with three deadbolts. A single bulb hung from the ceiling and threw a hard circle of light onto the table.
Thomas Vance sat in that circle.
His hands were zip-tied to a heavy steel chair. His ankles were zip-tied to the legs. He wasn't leaning forward. He wasn't testing the restraints. He was sitting perfectly straight, eyes moving slowly across the room. Cataloging.
A professional intelligence contractor assessing a compromised operational environment.
I sat across from him. A cup of black coffee sat on the table between us. Steam had stopped rising.
Ethan stood by the door. Rifle slung across his chest. He hadn't blinked in two minutes.
