The corridor was narrow, dimly lit by a flickering emergency lamp that painted the walls in tired amber. The club’s back exit had long emptied, but the echo of bass still crawled through the concrete like a restless pulse.

Alyssa had barely taken three steps before Ethan’s hand slammed against the wall beside her head.

She stopped.

The sound rang sharp in the confined space.

“Don’t walk away from me,” Ethan said, his voice low, rough around the edges. “Not tonight.”

Alyssa turned slowly, her back brushing the cold wall. The air between them felt compressed, charged with everything they had refused to say. Her eyes lifted to his—not afraid,...