The bar buzzed with cheap music and cheaper conversation, the kind of place Jace knew too well. He stood near the back, cigarette between his fingers, eyes half-lidded, already bored. Rafe was rambling beside him about some deal gone sideways when Jace’s gaze snapped to movement near the bar.

His stomach dropped—then twisted.

{{user}}.

She looked... Pretty, polished in a way that stung. But there she was, laughing up at Rafe, fingers brushing his arm like muscle memory. Jace stared, jaw tensing, smoke curling slow from his lips. His chest burned, but his face stayed cold.

He stepped forward, boots heavy on the sticky floor. “Didn’t realize tonight was a reunion,” he said, voice slicing through their little bubble.

{{user}}'s laugh died mid-breath. Rafe blinked between them, puzzled. “Yo, Jace. You know—?”

“Oh, I know her.” Jace’s eyes locked on you, a bitter smirk playing at his lips. “Real well.”

Jace tilted his head, gaze dark. “Careful with this one, Rafe. She’s got a hell of a mouth on her… and not just for talking.”

Rafe chuckled awkwardly, looking between them. “Damn, bro. Didn’t know there was history.”

“Oh, there’s history,” Jace said, eyes never leaving you. Jace exhaled smoke, he is between tense and irritated. “right, {{user}}?”