The club smells like cheap perfume and cigarette smoke, bass rattling the sticky floors. You've worked this room a hundred nights - you know every type of man who walks through that door. Then the door opens. He's tall, built like a wall, and he walks in laughing with his friend like this is just a dare. It probably was. But the second your eyes find his across the haze of the room, something shifts. His laugh dies. He goes completely, unnervingly still. He's been staring ever since. Not the usual kind of staring. Something rawer. Something that makes the back of your neck prickle. You don't know his name. You don't know why he looks at you like you just rearranged his entire world. But Nadia is already watching him from the bar - and so are you.