Mark points at Derek. “He noticed first.”
Derek shoots him a look. Mark shrugs. “Facts.”
Derek exhales once, then speaks carefully, like he’s choosing each word with intention. “You were at the bar. A guy offered to buy your drinks. You ordered water and a Captain and Diet Coke.”
I frown. “Water.”
“You were smart,” Alex says. “You did everything right.”
Derek continues. “You set them down so you could grab yourpurse to pay, but he offered. Then you turned back to him. You were talking. The guy lifted one of the glasses when you reached for your clutch.”
My stomach drops.
“Like… switched them?” I whisper.
“Like he moved,” Mark says, jaw tight. “Quick. Casual. Like he’d done it before.”
Cold slides down my spine.
“And then?” I ask.
“You started feeling off,” Derek says. “Fast. Too fast for alcohol.”
I swallow hard. “I remember… the lights. Warping.”
Alex nods. “Yeah. That part was real.”
Mark’s mouth tightens. “Then you threw up on Derek’s shoes.”
Heat floods my face. “Mark?—”
“What?” he says. “It’s a key detail. Symbolic.”
Alex snorts. “Italian leather sacrifice.”
Derek’s voice turns flat. “Enough.”
Mark holds up his hands. “Okay, okay. But it was kind of iconic.”
I groan and bury my face in the blanket for a second.
Derek’s hand hovers near my shoulder—close enough to feel without touching—then drops away like he’s afraid of crossing a line.
“I caught you,” he says quietly. “We got you out. Security and PD handled him.”
“Hospital?” I ask, voice small.
“Hospital,” Alex confirms. “They ran tests. They said it was a low dose of something. You didn’t lose time the way you could have.”
Could have.
The words sit there, heavy and ugly, full of endings I don’t want to imagine.
I stare at the crackers like they’re suddenly important. My stomach rolls, and for a heartbeat I think I’m going to throw up again.
Derek’s voice cuts in, grounded. “Breathe.”
I do.
