Nadia rolls her eyes walking over to the fridge and looking in briefly before turning back to me with a bored nod. "Yup."
"I'll take a cup, too," Nik says, sliding onto the stool beside me. He folds his hands on the counter and meets my eyes and leans his large viking frame over the counter.
"Lily," he says gently, "can you tell me exactly what you saw tonight?"
I blink at him, throat tightening. "What about… bugs?" I ask, voice higher than I meant it to be. "Like, are there bug microphone things in here? Recording things? Is this place safe? I don't want to incriminate myself…or Aleksandr."
Nik glances at Nadia with a humorous smirk, and Nadia scoffs as she knocks out the old grounds into the waste bin, taps in fresh espresso, tamps it down.
Nik turns to me. "This place is literally safer than Fort Knox. No one is listening in."
"Oh cool," I whistle low, clutching the edge of the counter and tapping my thumb aimlessly as I avoid everyone's gazes.
"Lil, what did you see?" Nadia asks, her tone even but edged. The machine hisses again, louder now, steam curling up around her wrist as she locks the portafilter into place. A low growl builds as the shot pulls—thick, dark liquid dripping into a pale yellow ceramic cup she didn't even glance at before placing.
I cough and swish my hips in the seat. "Well, I saw Alek shoot Officer Lyon. In the head."
Nadia doesn't look up. She just watches the espresso drip, calm and composed, like she's letting the machine speak for her. Then, with a sigh, she reaches for a second cup.
"Great, Aleksandr's first time being messy with a kill comes at the absolute worst time," she mutters. "And what about that Dahlia person who came up to you?"
"The woman on the street," I say, my fingers tightening around the counter. "I told her my name was Jessie. She was asking about me entering the building so late. I said I was an assistant for the lawyers, which should be a good cover because of the firm on the 23rd floor."
"Good thinking, Lil," Nik praises, ruffling my hair lightly and I bite down a smile.
"I'm going to assume this Dahlia person is a cop. So we're good until the morning when she can check if Jessie works at that firm," Nadia swears softly under her breath, pouring a third shot. "But when they find the body in the alley, she'll place you at the scene, and they'll pull you in for questioning."
Nik speaks up from beside me, his hands pounding on the table rhythmically. "Then step one is figuring out who Dahlia is, and whether she can tie Lily to the scene."
"Exactly," Nadia says, setting the pale yellow cup along with caramel, sugar and a carton of oat milk down in front of me. "Lil, where did it happen? Precisely."
"There's a back-alley door between the yoga studio and our building," I say, heart pounding. "Aleksandr killed him right by the back door that doesn't work."
Nadia exhales, lips twitching into a grim smile as she slides a cup of coffee across the table to Nik "Good. That's a dead zone. No cameras, no traffic. If that's where it happened, we've got time."
"Why were you even back there?" Nadia questions, blowing on a porcelain espresso cup.
"I left my phone and keys upstairs, and Viktor was nowhere to be found," I sigh, leaning my elbows onto the counter.
"Nice job, Lils," Nik snorts, and I jab him in the side with my elbow.
"I'm forgetful! It's totally a personality trait now!" I huff.
Nadia chuckles, lifting the porcelain cup to her lips as Gwen walks into the kitchen, scrolling through her phone.
Gwen clicks her tongue at me as she makes her way to Nik. "Hey, no injuring my man.."
"Tell your man to stop bullying me first," I mutter looking down at my black coffee.
Gwen loops her arms around his shoulders and rests her chin against his chest. I start to assemble my coffee: a shot of cream, a three second squeeze of caramel, a spoonful of sugar, then take one big sip of my sugary masterpiece.
"What did I miss?" Gwen hums.
"Lily is the only one who can place Aleksandr at the crime scene," Nik murmurs as he pours a splash of milk into his coffee and silently hands the cup to her.
"If there's no DNA evidence," Naida mutters, half to herself.
Gwen steals Nik's coffee and swallows it with a sigh, lowering the cup just as I hear it—the distinct panting and soft patter of nails on polished tile.
