Zerina's point of view

The man eased into the light and I saw him properly.

He wasn't like other men around the bar who wore ripped jeans and shirts clinging with sweat. No— his presence didn't belong here. He was dressed in a charcoal suit that hugged his broad shoulders with effortless precision. His shoes gleamed and the fabric was too fine to be ordinary. His white shirt is crisp as though it has just been iron. Even the way his watch glinted when his wrist moved told me it wasn't ...