Sweet Unhappy Heart
Third person's POV
The music in The Velvet Cat had shifted to something with a minor key that sounded like a warning. The bass line crawled under Liam's skin, making his pulse quicken in ways that had nothing to do with the rhythm. Around them, the club pulsed with manufactured euphoria, but up here in The Cat booth, the atmosphere felt suffocating, like the air before a thunderstorm.
Morgana Prescott set her martini glass down with deliberate precision, the crystal making a soft clink against the lacquered table. The sound somehow cut through the music, sharp and final.
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