Chapter 83 Beneath The Surface

The café was nearly empty, its dim lighting casting long shadows across the wooden tables. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air, mingling with the faint trace of cigarette smoke. Mariana sat in a corner booth, her fingers drumming lightly against the table as she waited. Esteban Fuentes arrived exactly on time. He was older than she had expected, his once-black hair streaked with silver, deep lines carved into his face. But his dark eyes held the sharpness of a man who had seen too much and trusted too little. He slid into the seat across from her without a word, placing a small, unassuming flash drive on the table between them.