The man—Hank?—crossed his arms, biceps bulging from the sleeves of his tee. “So, you ditch us for months, then just roll up like it’s nothing?”
Ash gave him a slow once-over. “Would it help if I said I missed you?”
Hank’s teeth flashed white. “Only if you’re planning to show me.”
Ash stepped in close enough to smell his cologne. He trailed a finger lightly down the center of Hank’s torso, stopping at the belt buckle. “Maybe I will.”
The flirting came easy, like muscle memory. They’d danced this dance before; backroom kisses, breathless gropes, shallow ecstasies in the thick hours between midnight and dawn. The man had hands that liked to hold, and Ash had let himself be held—once and done. Never more. Never longer.
“Careful,” Hank muttered, eyes dropping for a second too long. “I’m on shift.”
“You were on shift last time, too.”
Hank cleared his throat, mouth twitching. “And I still haven’t forgiven you for ghosting after.”
Ash shrugged, lips curving. “I’ll try to vanish more politely this time.”
Hank licked his lips, slow and hopeful. “Try not to vanish at all.”
Ash smiled, slipped a hand into his jacket, and pulled out his phone. The photo of Jimmy and the girl flashed on the screen. “Tell me, have you seen these two around?”
Hank held it to his face, frowning. “Yeah, I’ve seen them. They were in maybe… five, six nights ago?” He tilted the screen, squinting. “Came in wired, like they were already halfway gone. The girl’s name is Nora-something—I remember ‘cause I asked her for ID once. She was clinging to the guy, giggling at everything, eyes like saucers. Figured they were rolling hard.”
Ash’s smile thinned, almost imperceptibly. “Did they leave together?”
Hank handed the phone back, scratching his jaw. “No idea. I was breaking up a fight by the bathrooms around last call. Could’ve slipped out anytime.”
Ash tucked the phone away. “You remember anyone else talking to them? Anyone watching them?”
Hank shrugged. “I spend most nights standing here. I got no clue what goes on inside. Better ask Griffin at the bar.”
Ash met his gaze for a beat. “Thanks.”
Hank’s posture shifted, just enough to drop the bouncer act for a second. “What do you want with them?”
“I heard they were fun.” Ash winked, brushing lightly against him. Without looking back, he stepped inside.
The sound swelled around him like a breath held too long, then finally released. The air thickened, fevered and drugged, steeped in sweat, smoke, and the pounding pulse from above. The music hit hard—bass first, then synth and strobe—a riptide dragging him up. And Ash let it take him, rising into light and fire like Orpheus walking backward into hell.
The club still showed bones of the gutted facility’s corpse—soaring ceilings braced with exposed rafters, walls lined with defunct ventilation systems and rusting catwalks. But the ruin had been reborn in light: a crisscross of lasers slashed the darkness in sync with the beat, white and violet blades that cut the crowd like stage knives. Every flash revealed a sea of limbs below, writhing with ecstatic abandon. It wasn’t dancing; it wasritual, collective possession. A thousand strangers convulsing in worship of rhythm and reverb.
Above them, suspended from a steel rig, light fixtures pulsed like machine eyes scanning the throng. On the far side of the room, the DJ ruled behind his altar, his silhouette a skeletal priest against a wall of pink fire, sculpting sound from shadow. The music was pure vice, a seismic tribal throb meant to dissolve inhibition and pull partygoers into trance.
Ash threadedthrough the crowd like a phantom. Bodies brushed his as he passed, bare shoulders slick with sweat, fingertips flickering like moths against his arms, his back, his hips. He barely registered them. The music seeped into him, a subdermal pulse rising from the soles of his boots into his bloodstream. His pupils widened, drinking in the beat and strobe. His skin prickled, heat blooming at the base of his spine. The air reeked of sweat and ozone and synthetic euphoria. Perfume clung like gauze. Warmth shimmered off the floor. It was a womb and a furnace, a church and a slaughterhouse.
But even in this sensory delirium, Ash remained sharp. He scanned the periphery—past the shivering shadows, the heaving bodies, the bony scaffolding overhead—searching for somewhere cooler, darker, off the rhythm’s leash.
There. Tucked behind a jut of wall near the rear corner, where the floodlights thinned and the noise dimmed slightly, was a narrow passage. He ducked into it, brushing past a half-naked couple pressed against the wall. The hallway curved and opened into a recessed alcove, small, dim, and relatively still.
The bar stretched in a low arc beneath a vaulted slab of ceiling, backlit in amber and violet. A bartender in mesh and metal studs moved in a steady rhythm behind the counter, his eyes rimmed in crayon, his smile all teeth. The sound here was a muffled throb, as though the walls were absorbing the worst ofthe madness. Still primal, still thrumming, but dimmed enough to breathe.
Ash reclined against the counter, letting its cool edge anchor him. The bar’s surface was damp and sticky under his elbow, condensation clinging to every glass like sweat to skin. Bottles gleamed along the shelves—blue fire, molten gold, clear venom—and the half-lit profiles around him drank to forget their lives. Somewhere nearby, someone moaned into a kiss. A laugh erupted to his left, too loud.
He took his place among them, not apart but not quiteofthem either. His body eased into that liquid pose that looked accidental but wasn’t, one hip cocked just enough to suggest ease, one arm trailing over the quartz bar top in careless invitation. His mouth curved at the corners, lazy, decadent, a half-smile that saidI could ruin you, or make your night. Maybe both.
The bartender noticed him immediately. He glided over with the confident lope of someone who knew exactly how cool he was. Bleached, buzzed head, dog tags hanging from a chain around his neck, silver hoops gleaming in each ear. His arms were lean, vascular, moving with casual strength as he set down a shaker and drew near, his voice all smoke and flirt. “Hey, gorgeous. I haven’t seen you before.”
Ash cocked a brow. “You must be new. I used to come here all the time.”
