The days that followed carried an unusual sense of calm — as though the world itself was holding its breath.
Ashley's routine remained the same: the early jogs, quiet meals, and soft hum of music while tidying up. He worked his shifts at the bar with Han and Ellie by his side.
But amidst the routine, there was her.
A woman — striking, graceful, and impossible to ignore. She appeared at the bar like clockwork, always alone, always seated at the far end. She ordered the most expensive bottles without hesitation, left outrageous tips, and never once broke her polished smile. Though Ashley never paid her much attention, it was obvious she was watching him — not in the way admirers do but in the wolves do.
The day Victor was to travel came.
As promised, he gave one last gruff reminder to "keep the place alive" before heading out the door, suitcase in hand and Ellie yelling after him not to smoke at the train station.
And just like that…
The weekend had arrived.
The bar buzzed with its usual mix of chatter, clinking glasses, and the faint hum of music — alive and restless. Victor's departure left the responsibility to the younger crew: Liam, Ellie, and Ashley. And somehow, everything ran smoother than expected.
Ashley had slipped away just for a bit.
The storeroom was cool, dim, quiet—too quiet compared to the chaos outside. He sat back against a stack of crates, legs stretched out, just to rest his eyes for a few minutes. Just a few.
And then he was dreaming.
Sunlight poured through trees, golden and soft. It danced on the grass, made everything feel too warm to be real. Laughter rang out—light and innocent.
Three children darted barefoot through a wide-open field. One had blonde hair that shone like wheat in the sun. They were laughing, out of breath, cheeks pink with joy.
At the edge of the field stood two women, waving, their voices warm and calling.
"Come on, you three!"
"Come back inside, it's time to eat!"
The children faces lighting up. The blonde boy—his laughter fading into a smile—took off first toward the women, calling back over his shoulder.
"I'm coming!"
But just as his feet lifted into a run—
"Ash!"
The voice cut through the dream like thunder.
"Ash! Where are you?"
His dream stuttered, blurred.
"Ash—wake up!"
Ashley's eyes snapped open.
He was back in the storeroom, heart thudding against his chest. The air felt cooler now, the dream still clinging to his mind like smoke. He blinked at the dim overhead bulb and sat upright.
In the doorway stood Ellie, breathless, her long brown curls messy from running around the bar.
"There you are!" she huffed, stepping inside. "I've been looking for you everywhere. You just vanished."
Ashley rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Sorry," he murmured, voice a little hoarse. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."
She tilted her head, giving him a small, worried look. "You okay?"
He paused, the dream lingering like a half-remembered song.
"Yeah… just tired."
Ellie nodded, then jerked her thumb toward the door. "Come on. It's chaos out there without you."
Ashley stood slowly, brushing invisible dust off his shirt, forcing his legs to move.
And as they walked out of the storeroom and back into the light, the laughter from the dream echoed once more—just faint enough to hurt.
The lights in the bar hit Ashley's eyes as soon as he stepped out, a sharp contrast from the quiet of the storeroom. The music had shifted to something slower but bass-heavy, vibrating subtly through the floorboards. People crowded around the counter and clustered at tables, talking too loudly and laughing with their heads thrown back.
Ashley weaved through the crowd behind Ellie, still rubbing the sleep from his face.
Han spotted them and raised a brow from where he stood behind the bar, expertly sliding a tray of drinks toward a waiting server. "Look who finally decided to wake up," he teased.
Ashley offered a weak smirk. "Took a power nap. You should try it sometime."
"I would," Han said dryly, "if someone didn't disappear when things started getting busy."
Ellie rolled her eyes. "He's back now. Can we not grill him like a suspect?"
Ashley muttered a quiet thanks under his breath, though he still felt slightly out of sync. The dream had settled heavy behind his ribs, like a memory that didn't quite belong to him. He could still see the two women, hear their voices echoing faintly in his mind.
"Ash?"
He blinked, realizing Ellie was waving a hand in front of his face.
"You good?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
He nodded slowly, letting out a shaky breath. "Yeah. Let's just get through tonight."
And the night went on.
**************
The blender purred low behind the counter, and Ashley's hands moved without hurry as he poured a sharp drink for a man in a suit who never made eye contact.
Glass. Ice. Liquor. Silence.
He placed the drink down, gave the man a curt nod, then reached for the dark cloth tucked at his waist. A slow wipe of his hands. One breath. Then he turned.
His boots made no sound as he moved down the bar, cutting through the glow of amber lights and scattered chatter. His gaze was level—neither cold nor kind. Just steady.
When he reached the cluster of five women seated along the bar, he didn't ask what they wanted. He just stopped.
One palm rested on the counter.
"You look like the kind of women who don't need menus."
A couple of them blinked. One giggled. All of them watched him like he was poured from glass and heat.
Ashley reached for a bottle behind him and turned back with a slow, effortless motion, pouring a rich amber cocktail into the first glass.
"Boulevardier," he said, sliding it to the woman watching him like he was the drink.
"Strong. Bitter. Unforgettable. Like the kind of mistake you make twice on purpose."
Her laugh broke out soft and helpless, lips curving, eyes wide.
"Damn…" she murmured, glancing at her friend.
"He's so damn fine."
Ashley's mouth pulled into a small, sharp smirk. Barely there. Enough to kill. Then he moved on.
The next glass came in pink, topped with gentle foam. He set it down gently, not breaking his rhythm.
"Clover Club."
His eyes found hers.
"Looks soft. Tastes sweet. But the gin cuts through."
A beat.
"Pretty things that sting a little… tend to leave the deepest marks."
Her fingers curled against the bar. She looked down, cheeks flushed, hiding a smile. Her friend elbowed her. She giggled like she hadn't in years.
Ashley already had the next drink in his hand.
The glass clinked against the counter, dark and smooth. He traced the rim with one finger before letting it go.
"Espresso Martini."
His voice dropped just slightly.
"Sharp. Rich. Keeps you up all night. Like a mind that doesn't know when to shut up… or a mouth that says too much when it shouldn't."
The woman tilted her head, visibly affected.
"I... okay," she laughed.
"He's dangerous. Like genuinely."
No reaction. Just that small, sinful smirk again.
Ashley was already pouring the last.
The final drink landed without a sound. Crystal clear with a twist of lemon.
"Corpse Reviver."
He looked at her like he was remembering something she hadn't said yet.
"Said to wake the dead. But I think you do it with a whisper and a well-placed threat."
She smiled slowly, dangerously.
"And you? What do you wake up with?"
He tilted his head, letting that smirk settle—lazy, deadly.
"I don't wake up."
A pause.
"I pull people under."
Then he walked away—quiet as ever.
Behind him, the five of them sat there—some biting their lips, some fanning themselves, all flushed and breathless.
Not one of them had touched their drink.
They were already drunk off him.
As he turned to walk the length of the bar, heading toward a new group of customers,his gaze swept the crowd- and paused.
She was there again.