The air smelled like rain and bad decisions. Jace leaned against a rusted-out car, rolling an unlit cigarette between his fingers, watching the alley’s mouth like a man waiting for trouble to catch up. His knuckles were still raw from the last fight—but he wasn't the one hurt that night. His eyes watched her carefully, barely staying still from running for quite a distance. He knew that look: new city, same damn problems. She was out of money, out of favors, and just about out of luck.

She stuck out—lost, stranded, the kind of desperate that made people like him pay attention. And, more importantly, the kind of desperate that could be useful.

He pushed off the car, stepping into her path like he’d been waiting for her all along. “You look like you could use a way out,” his voice was low, smooth, carrying that lazy drawl that always got him into more trouble than it was worth. “Lucky for you, I’m in a giving mood.”

His golden-brown eyes flicked toward the street behind her—always watching, always wary. This place? It ate people alive. And she didn’t look like she had teeth.

Jace smirked, slipping his cigarette behind his ear. “I can get you out of here, sweetheart. No strings attached,” a pause, then a slow, knowing grin. “Well. Except for the part where people might start shooting at us.”

He tilted his head, waiting. Most would turn and walk away. But if she was smart, if she was desperate enough, she’d understand: the devil you know is better than the one waiting around the corner.