Chapter Three

Celeste didn’t wake as easily as she had the day before, her body slower to respond as she opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, letting the quiet settle around her before she moved.

Her bag sat untouched near the wall, and the money from the night before was still resting where she had dropped it. She looked at it for a second before turning away, pushing herself to stand and grabbing a change of clothes as she moved through the motions, letting the routine come and go without much thought. By the time she stepped out of the shower and dressed, she was already reaching for her jacket, her mind made up without needing to think about it.

She went downstairs.

The bar had already started to fill. A few people were scattered throughout the space, sitting like they had nowhere else to be, their voices low enough to blend together without drawing focus, and behind the bar Riven was already there, moving at the same pace as before, like nothing about this place ever changed.

He looked up when she came into view, his expression the same as it had been the night before, unreadable but not cold.

“You’re late.”

Celeste crossed the room without rushing and pulled out the stool, sitting this time as she rested her arm lightly against the counter. “Didn’t know I had a time to be here.”

“You do now.”

It wasn’t said in a way that invited argument, and she didn’t give one, watching instead as he poured something into a glass and slid it toward her without asking. She picked it up, taking a small sip before setting it back down with a slight shift of her expression.

“Coffee would’ve made more sense.”

“You didn’t complain yesterday.”

“I didn’t know better yesterday.”

That was enough to end it, and neither of them pushed the conversation further as the quiet between them settled back into place just as easily as it had been broken. After a moment, she pushed the glass aside and stood, glancing briefly toward the rest of the room.

“What needs done?”

He nodded toward one of the tables near the front, and that was all the direction she needed before she turned and moved without another word.

The work came easily. She cleared glasses, wiped down tables, straightened chairs, and moved on without pausing long enough to think about anything else, letting the steady rhythm of it fill the space where her thoughts might have been. People came and went in the same quiet way, taking seats without hesitation and speaking in low voices that never quite carried, and for a while, it all blended together into something simple and unremarkable.

But the longer she stayed, the more she started to notice the way things shifted around her.

It wasn’t obvious, and it wasn’t something she could point to directly, but there was a slight change in the air when she passed certain tables, a pause in conversation that didn’t last long enough to call out but happened often enough to feel intentional. A few looks lingered longer than they should have, not curious in the way people usually were, but quieter, more measured, and even though she didn’t let it slow her down, she didn’t miss it either.

When she brought another set of glasses back to the bar, she set them down with a soft clink before reaching for a cloth and wiping a section of the counter that didn’t need it, more out of habit than anything else.

“You get a lot of regulars?” she asked, her tone casual, filling the space without expecting much from it.

“Enough.”

She glanced at him briefly. “That’s helpful.”

He didn’t respond, and she didn’t push it, letting the quiet settle again as she moved away and returned to the floor.

The door opened not long after, a little harder than before, not loud enough to draw attention outright but enough to shift it slightly, and when she glanced over, she saw the group come in without hesitation, their movement easy and familiar in a way that made it clear they had been there before. They didn’t look around or take their time deciding where to sit, choosing a table near the center as if it had already been theirs, and even though nothing about the room changed in any obvious way, there was a subtle shift in how people carried themselves, a quiet adjustment that was easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.

Celeste noticed it.

She didn’t stop what she was doing, continuing to clear the table in front of her before bringing the glasses back to the bar and setting them down. “Friends of yours?” she asked without looking at him.

“No.”

She nodded once and moved on, but she could feel it now, the way one of them watched her without making it obvious, his attention lingering just long enough to be noticed before shifting away again. It wasn’t curiosity, and it wasn’t interest in the usual sense, but she didn’t try to figure it out, choosing instead to ignore it and continue working as if it didn’t matter.

When she passed their table, one of them spoke.

“Didn’t know you were hiring.”

She slowed just enough to glance in his direction, her expression neutral. “Didn’t know he needed approval.”

There was a faint smirk in response, but she didn’t wait for anything else, turning and continuing on without giving them anything more.

For a while, it seemed like that would be the end of it, like the moment would pass without turning into anything else, but the tension didn’t disappear. It settled instead, low and steady, building in a way that wasn’t loud enough to interrupt the room but didn’t fade either.

One of them stood after a few minutes, moving toward the bar with an ease that suggested he didn’t expect to be stopped, and when he leaned against the counter, Riven didn’t look up right away, finishing what he was doing before finally meeting his gaze.

“What do you want?”

“A drink,” the man said, though his tone made it clear that wasn’t really the point.

Riven poured it anyway and set the glass in front of him, but the man didn’t reach for it, his attention shifting instead, briefly, toward Celeste before returning.

“You’ve got new help.”

“She’s working.”

The man let out a quiet breath, something close to a laugh but without any humor behind it. “You usually keep better company than this.”

That was the first thing that didn’t sit right, not because it was loud or aggressive, but because of how easily it cut through the room, subtle but sharp enough that conversations nearby quieted without fully stopping.

Riven’s gaze didn’t change. “Say what you came to say.”

The man leaned forward slightly, resting his arms against the bar. “You’ve been moving things that don’t belong to you.”

“I haven’t taken anything that wasn’t already up for grabs.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“It is here.”

The tension shifted again, heavier now, though no one moved to intervene, and for a moment it seemed like the man might let it go, like he might take the drink and walk away, but instead he reached out and knocked the glass from the counter, letting it shatter against the floor.

The sound cut through everything.

It didn’t last long, but it didn’t need to.

Riven moved before anything else could happen, quick and controlled, catching the man’s arm and forcing him back against the bar with a precision that left no room for resistance, his grip firm without looking strained.

“You don’t come in here and make a scene,” he said, his voice even, steady in a way that made it clear he didn’t need to raise it. “Not unless you’re ready to deal with it.”

The man didn’t fight him, not fully, the tension in his posture enough to show he understood exactly where he stood in that moment, and after a second, Riven let him go just as easily, stepping back without pushing it further.

The others stood then, one of them stepping forward just enough to pull him away, his expression tight but controlled as he glanced between them.

“We’re done here.”

No one stopped them.

They left without another word.

The door closed behind them, and the room slowly returned to what it had been, conversations picking back up, movement resuming like nothing had happened at all.

Celeste stood still for a moment longer before turning back to the table in front of her, finishing what she had started as if it didn’t matter, even though she knew it did.

When she returned to the bar, she set the glasses down carefully before looking at him. “That happens often?”

“Only when it needs to.”

She nodded once, accepting that for what it was.

**

By the time Celeste stepped outside, the city was already easing into the day.

It wasn’t busy yet, but there was movement now, storefronts opening, people passing by without much urgency, the kind of slow build that didn’t demand attention but filled the space anyway. The air was cooler than it had been, settling against her skin as she paused just outside the door for a moment before starting down the street.

She didn’t have anywhere to be.

Instead of heading in any one direction, she let herself move without thinking too much about it, turning where she wanted, slowing when something caught her eye for more than a second, and continuing on when it didn’t.

A few shops had already opened, their lights on and doors unlocked, while others still sat quietly, waiting. People moved around her without paying attention, conversations passing in pieces as they walked by, none of it sticking long enough to matter.

She walked for a while like that before stopping outside a small café tucked between two older buildings, the door slightly open as voices drifted out onto the sidewalk. It wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t empty either, and after a second, she stepped inside without hesitation.

The warmth hit first, soft and immediate, and she moved to the counter, glancing briefly at the menu before ordering something simple. Coffee. Nothing more.

She took the cup and turned, choosing a table near the window, setting it down as she sat and letting her gaze drift back outside. People passed by without looking in, their movements steady, unbothered, and for a few minutes, she stayed like that, her hands loosely wrapped around the cup as the heat settled into her skin.

After a few minutes, she took a sip, set the cup back down, and stood, leaving it half full before stepping back outside. The street had picked up slightly, more movement now, more voices, but still nothing close to what it had been the night before.

She let herself drift a little longer, not counting the time, not paying attention to where she had been or where she was going, until eventually the streets began to look familiar in a way that didn’t come from memory, but from repetition. It didn’t take long after that for her to find her way back.

The bar sat the same as before.

Closed.

Quiet.

She slowed just slightly as she approached, her gaze lingering on the door before she pushed it open and stepped inside.

The difference was immediate.

Without people, without noise, the space felt stripped down to what it actually was, the quiet stretching further than it had the day before, settling into the corners without anything to break it up. Behind the bar, he was already there, moving at a slower pace than usual, setting things into place without needing to keep up with anyone else.

He glanced up when she came in, taking in the fact that she had gone out before returning.

“You went out.”

It wasn’t a question.

“You weren’t open,” she said, walking over and pulling out the stool.

“Not on Sundays.”

She nodded once, sitting this time without hesitation. “Good to know.”

He didn’t respond, and the quiet between them settled naturally, not forced, not empty, just there as he continued working. Celeste rested her arms against the counter, glancing around the room again, taking it in without the distraction of people moving through it.

“Different without them,” she said after a moment.

“It’s the same.”

She shook her head slightly. “No, it’s not.”

He didn’t argue with her.

After a second, she pushed herself up from the stool. “What needs done?”

He nodded toward the shelves behind him. “There.”

That was enough.

She moved without another word, stepping behind the bar and beginning to sort through the bottles, straightening them where they didn’t need it, wiping down surfaces that were already clean, not because it mattered, but because it gave her something to do.

After a while, the door opened again, slower this time, without the same weight as the night before, but enough to shift the air just slightly as someone stepped inside.

Celeste didn’t look right away.

She didn’t need to. She could feel someone standing nearby.

She continued what she was doing, her movements steady as she adjusted a row of bottles before finally glancing toward the door.

One person.

He didn’t move like someone new to the place, but he didn’t carry himself the same way either. There was less certainty in it, less control, and as he stepped further inside, his gaze moved briefly around the room before settling on the bar.

On her.

Only for a second.

Then it shifted.

Riven had already noticed him.

“What do you want?” he asked, his tone even.

The man hesitated for just a moment before answering. “Looking for someone.”

“Then you’re in the wrong place.”

That should have been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

The man stepped closer, slower now, like he wasn’t sure if he should be there but wasn’t ready to leave either. “I was told…”

“I don’t care what you were told.”

That stopped him.

Completely.

For a second, it looked like he might argue, like he might push it further, but whatever thought crossed his mind didn’t last, and after a moment, he nodded once, turning back toward the door without another word.

He left.

Just like that.

The door closed behind him, and the quiet settled back into place as if nothing had interrupted it at all.

Celeste watched it happen without saying anything, her gaze lingering on the door for a second longer before she turned back to what she had been doing.

“You don’t get many people like that,” she said.

“No.”

She nodded once.

Didn’t ask anything else.