When Sylvie finally pulled up at the location Dahlia had sent, she didn’t get out of the car immediately. She stayed seated for a few seconds, her hands resting loosely on the steering wheel and her eyes scanning the building in front of her.
It wasn’t what she expected.
The place looked understated from the outside, no flashing lights, no booming music leaking into the street, no long line of cars announcing something loud and reckless. Just a converted warehouse-style space with warm lights glowing through the windows and people drifting in and out, laughing softly, talking in clusters.
She picked up her phone and typed quickly.
I’m here already.
She sent the message, then leaned back in her seat and waited.
A few minutes passed. People walked by her car, some dressed casually, oth
