The silence after the battle was deafening.
Maya stood in the middle of the bar, her hands shaking, her heart pounding. The chaos had ended, but the wreckage remained. Broken glass glittered on the floor like deadly diamonds, catching the dim light and scattering it into a thousand tiny reflections that seemed to mock the violence that had just occurred. Overturned furniture lay scattered like fallen soldiers, their legs sticking up at odd angles, their surfaces scarred and splintered. Blood stained the wood—dark, wet, still fresh, a stark reminder of the brutality that had erupted just hours ago. The smell of smoke and sweat and fear hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating, making it hard to breathe. It was a scene of devastation, a reminder of everything they'd nearly lost. And yet
