“Absolutely.”
Nixi exhaled a laugh and leaned her hip against a barstool.“All right.I had a fiancé.Classiest and smartest guy I ever met, with broad shoulders and a stamina that wouldn’t quit.He wasn’t ready for, well, us, and he broke my heart.Right in two.”
“I’m sorry.The dumbass.He couldn’t be that smart if he let you go.”
“Right?The cliché burns more than the betrayal.I left town with nothing but a credit card and a backpack and figured I’d just…keep moving.”
Amka grinned.“And become famous?”
“I didn’t try to.I posted a video of me screaming into the Grand Canyon.People liked it.”
Amka laughed.The sensation felt strange in her chest.“That’s it?You screamed into a canyon and it went viral?”
Nixi’s eyes sparkled, and in her capri jeans and blue flannel, she looked like a sprite.“People love a meltdown.Especially when it’s well-lit.”
They worked in silence for a bit, stacking chairs, clearing dishes, wiping tables.It felt weirdly good to be doing something without thinking, without plotting, without fearing every shadow that moved.Just her and Nixi.Motion and heat and dish soap.
“Do you like it?”Amka asked eventually.“The life, I mean.”
“I like the parts where I’m on top of a mountain,” Nixi said.“Not so much the part where people think that makes me whole.”
Amka understood that all too well.The way people looked at her behind the bar and assumed she was fine.She could pull a perfect pint and smile while her world crumbled in the walk-in freezer.“You’re good at this,” she said quietly, nodding at the now-pristine tables.
Nixi rolled her neck.“I’m good at surviving.The rest I make up as I go.”
They carried the last trays of dishes into the kitchen.The space was silent, clean, still smelling faintly of garlic and heat.It should have seemed peaceful.
But Amka felt the weight in her chest returning.There was a note by the register saying someone thought she was a killer.That Flossy deserved to hang.That fifty grand had to appear by Friday.She didn’t even know who she could trust anymore.
Except, maybe Nixi.
Nixi stood by the dish pit, sleeves rolled up.She looked like she belonged there.Not glamorous.Not curated.Just…real.
“Hey, thanks again,” Amka said, pushing open the kitchen door.She might as well collect the dishes from the drunk trio joking loudly about insurance and influencers.
Nixi looked over her shoulder and grinned.“Anytime.Seriously.It feels good to help someone who’s not trying to get me to sponsor their beard oil.”She stepped toward the sink.
Amka moved into the bar, pausing when a loud, sharp metallic pop echoed from the kitchen.She froze.“Nixi?”
An explosion hit with a ferocious bang.A white-hot flash blew beneath the door.A roar like a collapsing roof thundered.The entire kitchen rocked with sound as dishes must’ve shattered.
Amka shoved at the door, fighting a heated current.The fire alarm screamed.“Nixi!”she yelled.
No response.
Just the crackle of fire.
And a single, broken sound—something between a gasp and a groan—from inside the smoke.
The blast hit justas Christian reached the front door of the tavern.
A bone-deep whump of pressure punched the front windows of the structure, followed by the sharp crack of glass.
His gut clenched so hard he gasped.Amka.
He didn’t wait.He ran.
The door slammed open as he charged inside, adrenaline already surging through his veins.The tavern was chaos with smoke in the air, chairs tipped, a few people shouting.A wineglass rolled across the floor and shattered against a stool.
