Tracy settled into her seat, slipping off her white overcoat to reveal a sky-blue short-sleeved sweater that hugged her perfect curves. The fitted black pencil skirt showcased her long, milky-white legs—sleek and impossibly toned. Every inch of her figure was on full display, her outfit perfectly matching the bar's electric atmosphere.
Propping her chin on both hands, she studied the Interstellar Bar with rapt attention. Multicolored lights flashed everywhere, casting mysterious reflections that made her eyes glaze over.
Unseen by her, a group of men ahead had begun stirring with lecherous looks. Tracy was now their target.
Moanna was weaving through the crowd with a numbered tag when she spotted them—two heavyset, balding men shuffling toward Tracy in flip-flops, their tattooed arms gl
