His icy gaze analyzed the pictures spread out on the table. They weren't on the pinboard yet, but in a few minutes they would be, and then the simple photos would become possible targets.

The club was well known in criminal circles, and everyone knew who went in and out. It wasn't just an illegal venue—it was a place where secrets were exchanged, where the shadows hid more than just bodies. Nameless faces were denied entry into the exclusive club.

Spies, drugs, and horrendous sums of money.

All directly linked to the war, and there were only a few people who knew every dirty secret whispered in that club.

In a world where loyalty was bought with blood and money, the dancers were the silent witnesses to it all.

Like Diyani.