The bar didn't look like a war zone anymore.
Maya ran her fingers over the fresh wood where the door used to be. Smooth. New. It still smelled like sawdust and varnish, like someone had tried to erase the night with sandpaper and polish. She breathed it in—that clean, sharp scent of rebuilding—and let it settle in her chest. A new door meant new beginnings. She could almost forget the splintered chaos that had been here before.
Almost.
The sound of a drill echoed from the back room. Jesse was fixing something—she didn't ask what. Rachel was behind the counter, wiping glasses that didn't need wiping, her movements careful, focused. Like she was trying to scrub away the memory of the blood on the floor.
Maya caught her eye. Rachel paused. A small smile flickered across her face—half reli
