Especially the hands.
Thrill-seekers throw their weight around, touch everything, move like their high is loud enough to justify their limbs. Professionals? They don’t touch unless they mean it. They don’t lean unless they’re mapping the room. And their hands?
Their hands arequiet.
I smell blood under the perfume of three different people. One of them’s not even trying to hide it. Just came from a job, probably. Still glowing from the kill. But their smile’s too big. Too fresh. Flash instead of function. Not the Butcher.
Another one’s standing still at the edge of the room, nursing a drink that’s either untouched or ritual. Eyes on the exits. But there’s fear there. Just under the surface. They’re watching for someone. Not hunting. Hunted.
Not the Butcher.
I keep scanning.
There’s a group of off-duty mercs near the back booth, all swagger and tactical flirtation. Their laughter’s a little too practiced, like they’re all trying to forget something and doing it badly. One of them catches my eye and smirks like it’s a challenge. I don’t return it.
I don’t have time for amateurs.
I slide through the crowd. Watch the ripple I make. Measure the tension.
Nobody wants to get in my way, but a few try not tolooklike they’re moving.
That’s good.
Fear’s still a weapon I can use.
Then I see her.
Movement near the second bar. Not flashy. Not slow. Just precise.
A figure in dark clothing. No obvious weapons. No obvious tells.
She’s watching people with a gaze that isn’t greedy or curious—it’s clinical. Surgical. Like she’s filing away weaknesses for later dissection.
She doesn’t sip her drink. She holds it. Steady. Balanced.
Like a decoy.
I don’t approach.
Not yet.
Because the second you assume you’ve found what you’re looking for?
That’s when someone puts a blade in your ribs from the left.
So I drift.
Keep her in my periphery.
Make a lap around the perimeter. Let the air hit my skin, feel the sweat from the crowd, the vibration in the floor through my boots.
The club pulses.
And I listen.
Not to the music.
To the rhythm beneath it.
