The moon hung like a voyeur in the dark sky, casting its cool, silvery glow across the room. Jasmine sat by the window, the heavy curtains pulled back just enough to let the night air creep in. She hadn’t meant to stay there so long, her fingers lightly brushing the glass, but the scent of the world outside—earth, leaves, and the faintest trace of something wild... called to her.
The brothel had quieted for the night, the usual hum of voices and bodies silenced by the hour. The air in her room felt thick with expectation, though the only presence was her own. The shadows deepened around her, closing in like they always did when she was alone. But tonight felt different. It was as if the darkness itself had a pulse... a rhythm she could almost feel in her veins.
A sharp knock at her door
