The party swelled fast—music thumping low and rough, laughter bouncing off exposed beams, the air thick with beer, smoke, and warm bodies. Glasses clinked constantly. Cain held court near the fireplace, clapping backs and raising toast after toast until the room loosened up completely. I sipped something amber and strong, staying just ahead of the buzz, leaning against a post and pretending I wasn’t mentally mapping every exit. Old habits, really.
Then the doors swung open and three women sauntered in—loud, bright, draped in club colors like they owned the place. Everyone knew the score around here; nobody pretended otherwise. They laughed too loud, draped themselves over laps and shoulders, and traded easy banter with whoever caught their eye. One of them winked at Rafe as she passed; he
