The bar was loud—dimly lit with flashing neon signs, the air thick with cigarette smoke, spilled whiskey, and the scent of bad decisions. Laughter echoed in waves, music thumped from the speakers, and bodies swayed in drunken rhythms that cared nothing for rules.
Thompson sat alone at the end of the counter, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him and his tie hanging loose around his neck. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing the scar that ran just beneath his collarbone—a reminder of everything that went wrong years ago… and how none of it was really over.
He poured another drink.
The burn of the liquor didn’t faze him anymore. Not tonight. Not when Jake had walked away with her again. Katherine.
He clenched the glass tighter.
She looked terrified, vulnerable…
