The drive should've taken fifteen minutes. I carved it down to eight.
Traffic laws bent easily when you had the money, the influence, and a legal team that treated speeding tickets like grocery lists. I parked in the loading zone directly in front of Pulse, right under a faded NO PARKING sign, and stepped out without a second glance.
The bass was already rattling the pavement, vibrating up through my shoes, drumming a pulse that matched the fury tightening in my chest.
The bouncer at the door, a slab of muscle with a shaved head and a neck thicker than his skull took one look at me. Whatever he saw made him move aside instantly. No questions. No hesitation. Just survival instinct.
Smart man.
Inside, the club was a swamp of noise and bodies. Strobe lights cut through the dark like lightning, flashing over faces twisted with drunken joy, lust, and bad decisions.
The air was thick... sweat, alcohol, cheap perfume, and the sour tang of spilled drinks mixing into something rancid.
