The message came at 2:14 a.m.

No words. Just a location pin. The same hotel. The same room number.

For a long time, I stared at the screen, the soft blue glow painting my face in ghost light. I should have ignored it. I should have turned off my phone, rolled over, and let the night take me.

But I didn’t.

My body moved before my mind caught up. By the time I realized what I was doing, I was already standing at the door, coat thrown loosely over silk, pulse drumming like war.

The streets were silent, the kind of silence that feels rehearsed—like the city already knew what...