Elijah arrived at the entrance of the Pool Club just after nightfall.
The street outside was quiet, the air thick with the scent of rain on pavement.
A neon sign buzzed overhead, casting shifting colors on the wet sidewalk.
From inside, faint music and the clink of glasses signaled life, the hum of conversations barely audible through the thick wooden door.
He stepped inside.
The Pool Club was more refined than its rough exterior suggested—polished wooden floors, vintage pool tables, and warm, low lighting.
A grand mural spanned the far wall: an abstract sunburst-like star, its design mirroring the symbol worn by the men in dark suits scattered across the room.
Each of them bore the emblem on their jackets—metallic spikes radiating outward like blades.
Elijah's presence was noticed immediately.
Tristan, a tall teen in a tailored black suit, met his gaze across the room.
