The front lights were off. The sign outside was dark. Only the interior glow showed through the glass.
Nate didn't leave the bar open when he expected them. Not anymore. It wasn't about secrecy. It was about not having to explain to anyone else why the place was lit at this hour with no customers inside.
Inside: wood darkened by time. Shelves lined with bottles moved and replaced too many times to count. The low, persistent smell of alcohol that never quite left.
Arianne stepped in first. The warmth hit immediately. She took in the room once—the way the light fell, where people were sitting, what had changed since the last time.
Franz followed just behind her. The door closed.
Julian came in next, adjusting as he moved. Nate was already behind the bar, finishing something that didn't need finishing.
Gilbert was seated.
His hair was black.
