Chapter 4 — The Man with the Pocket Watch

Catalina

The air in The Hives Club feels heavier tonight, as if the tension from last night has multiplied, weaving itself into every velvet-draped corner and mirrored wall. My hands grip the edges of the tray I’m carrying, the cool metal biting into my palms as I weave through the crowd. Each breath feels weighted, the faint metallic tang in the air mingling with expensive cologne and spilled liquor. It’s oppressive, inescapable. The first night left its mark—an invisible bruise, buried deep but throbbing quietly beneath my composure. I can’t afford to crack. Not here.