The bar was alive tonight, a pulse of warm light and chatter, the low hum of conversation mixing with the clink of glasses and occasional bursts of laughter. The scent of citrus, polished wood, and spilled whiskey wrapped around Aniela as she worked, wiping counters and lining up glasses. Tonight was her dry run, her first real test of handling the rush alone, and her chest tightened with anticipation.
Focus, Aniela. Just focus on the drinks. Don’t let anything else distract you. She wiped her hands nervously on her apron, trying to push away the tension curling inside her. Her eyes flicked to the entrance, scanning each patron as they moved toward the bar, calculating orders, anticipating mistakes before they happened.
And then, she saw him.
Kafziel stepped up to the counter, casual as
