The Lost and the Found

Felix had spent years as one of the Nine Dragons’ most feared enforcers. His hands, once steeped in violence and destruction, now trembled with guilt. He had left that life behind—or so he had convinced himself. Yet here he was, sitting alone in a rundown bar on the outskirts of the city, nursing a drink to drown the memories. His demons were never far behind, and tonight, they felt closer than ever.

The bar was nearly empty, save for a few regulars slumped over their drinks. Felix liked it that way—quiet, unassuming, a place where no one asked questions. The dim light above his table flickered erratically, casting shadows that danced like ghosts on the peeling walls.

When Clarissa walked in, Felix knew his fragile peace was over. Her sharp silhouette against the doorway cut through the haze of alcohol and cigarette smoke. She moved with purpose, her heels clicking softly on the worn wooden floor as she approached him.