It was almost night—but not quite. The sky still held a thin wash of fading blue, stretched tight between day and darkness, as if it hadn’t decided which side to belong to yet.
Leo stepped out of the private room. The door closed softly behind him, but the silence inside his chest didn’t. The club felt different now—muted, distant, like he was walking through it underwater. Music hummed somewhere; glasses clinked; laughter rose and fell in pockets. None of it reached him.
Across the room, away from the main bar of the Canterbury, Spike sat at a small table. Eleria sat across from him. Leo went straight to them. Amelia didn’t see him; she was busy somewhere else, moving, working, and surviving the shift the way she always did.
Leo reached the table and sat beside Spike. Eleria lifted
