Freddy's POV

The streets of New York were as lively as ever, filled with a spirit that never faded, never paused.

Freddy walked down the bustling sidewalk, his hands buried in his pockets, as the neon lights from pubs and fancy restaurants brightened the night.

The club was lively, packed with perspiring individuals, the scent of spirits and luxurious perfume thick in the air.

Men in suits murmured about agreements and treachery.

Ladies in haute couture gowns observed him, wishing he would take notice of them.

However, Freddy sensed nothing.

Not the throbbing bass of the music.

Not the appreciative looks cast in his direction.

Not the hands that touched...