The café hummed with its usual rhythm—cups clinking, steam hissing, soft chatter threading through the scent of roasted beans. But to Liam, the sound felt distant. His mind was still stuck on the anonymous message from the night before.

Check the system. Now.

He hadn’t slept much after that. The words lingered like static in his head, pulsing with quiet urgency. Whoever sent it knew something. And worse—they knew him.

When Celine called his name from behind the counter, he nearly ...