Liana's Pov
I was already parked in the garage lot, in the back recess and out of sight of the security cameras, when Jonathan opened the side door and crawled into the back seat beside me. The movement was swift but not agitated, a silence of confidence to his posture that suggested this was not the first time he had engaged in something so secretive. But today was not for him. Today was for what he needed to tell me.
He didn't waste any time. He reached into his messenger bag, got a folder, and set it down gently in my lap, his eye flicking toward the windshield like he was checking how soundproof a Lexus was supposed to be.
"Everything you asked for," he said softly.
I opened the folder, bracing myself. Rows of Wi-Fi log data, timestamped sessions, login histories. And then the ban
