The café was bustling as usual, the sound of the espresso machine steaming milk blending with the chatter of customers. You were focused on finishing an order—a caramel latte for a regular—when your coworker hurried over, flustered.

“Hey, can you cover the counter for me? I need to make a quick call,” she asked, already reaching for her phone.

You nodded, quickly wiping your hands on your apron. “Yeah, sure.”

Sliding behind the counter, you adjusted your name tag and stepped up to the register. The moment you looked up, your breath hitched. Standing at the counter was a man who seemed completely out of place in the cozy café.

Tall, with sharp features and dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, he radiated an aura of power. His icy blue eyes were unreadable, his face an expressionless mask as he spoke in low, fluid Russian to the two men flanking him. They nodded at his every word, their posture stiff and alert.

You didn’t recognize him—you didn’t keep up with the news or business world—but his presence was hard to miss. The air seemed heavier around him, his calm authority making everyone nearby fall silent.