He was tall, wearing a charcoal overcoat that draped perfectly over broad shoulders. When he moved toward the bar, his gait was effortless, possessed of a quiet confidence that made the rest of the room fade into a blurred background. He took the stool next to Julian, the scent of rain and bergamot trailing him.

The neon sign above "The Velvet Anchor" flickered, casting a rhythmic violet glow over the rain-slicked pavement. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of cedarwood, expensive gin, and the low hum of anticipation.

"Well, Julian," Elias whispered, leaning in closer until his breath brushed Julian’s ear. "I have a feeling this night is just getting started."