The meeting was set in a small, nondescript café on the outskirts of the city—one of those quiet places where no one paid attention to who came and went.
Martin arrived just before nine, the dim streetlights casting long shadows as he made his way inside. The Mystery Agent had chosen the location, and her judgment rarely missed the mark.
Inside, the café was nearly empty except for a few patrons hunched over their cups of coffee. In the back corner sat the Mystery Agent, her expression unreadable as usual, flanked by two others who Martin immediately recognized as members of the Night Owls.
The male leader was a tall man with short-cropped hair and a hardened face. His presence exuded authority but lacked the arrogance that often accompanied those in leadership positions.
His right hand, a young woman with sharp features and piercing eyes, sat quietly beside him, the same girl Martin had seen performing in the underground MMA arena.
