I counted the people following me through Brno's cobblestone streets. Three of them. No, four.Amateur hour.I ducked into a small café, ordering coffee I didn't want.The place was empty. Except for an old man reading a newspaper."Rough morning?" the barista asked in Czech."You could say that." I smiled, replying in the same language.My followers scattered outside, trying to look casual. They were good. But not good enough.I sat by the window, watching their reflections in the glass. Two pretending to window shop. One checking his phone. The fourth—"Mind if I join you?"I nearly jumped. Marcus stood beside my table, coffee in hand."Those are your people outside?" I asked.He sat down without waiting for an invitation. "Insurance. Nothing personal.""Four seems excessive.""Six, actually." He smiled. "You missed two."I took a sip of coffee to hide my surprise. "What do you want, Marcus?""Direct. I like that." He leaned back, studying me. "How's the leg healing?"My hand tighte
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