The celebration had died down into a warm haze of laughter, clinking bottles, and music playing just a bit too loud from someone's Bluetooth speaker. The MC's main lounge was packed but relaxed now—leather jackets draped over chairs, boots kicked off, someone snoring softly on the couch in the corner. Killer had one arm wrapped lazily around Violet’s waist as they stood at the center of it all, glowing like royalty. Violet was radiant with happiness, her eyes softer than Haru had seen in years.
Haru watched them from her seat at the bar, cradling a half-empty glass of whiskey that had long gone warm in her palm.
She should’ve been happy too.
But she was thinking of the man sitting in the armchair across the room, his legs spread wide, a cigarette tucked between two fingers, smoke curlin
