The small coastal town was bustling that morning, fishermen hauling in their nets, children chasing each other through the narrow streets, and vendors calling out their wares. Dimitri moved cautiously through the crowds, his cap pulled low to obscure his face. Though he often came here for supplies, today felt different.As he walked past a café, his ears caught snatches of conversation from a table of two men. One of them was leaning forward, his voice low but urgent.“They’re supposed to be somewhere nearby. A villa on the coast, maybe,” the man said, his thick accent unfamiliar.Dimitri slowed his pace, pretending to inspect a fruit stand.The other man responded, “If they’re here, we’ll find them. The president doesn’t tolerate loose ends.”Dimitri’s pulse quickened. He casually picked up an orange, handing the vendor some coins while keeping his focus on the men. They didn’t notice him, too engrossed in their conversation.He left quickly, his mind racing. Someone was asking ques
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