Chapter 1: The First Sync
The neon lights buzzed above Charles Manson’s head, casting a pale blue glow over the empty bar counter. Midnight shifts at Velvet, the upscale lounge in downtown Arkvale City, always ended the same way—silence, glassware, and tips too small to matter.
He ran a cloth across a lipstick-stained martini glass, the smell of citrus and faint perfume still lingering. The city outside was alive, but in here, it was like time itself had grown bored and moved on.
The only person left in the lounge sat at the far end of the counter. Legs crossed, back straight, drink untouched for the past ten minutes.
Olivia Grayson. Late thirties. Elegant, dangerous, and dressed like trouble wrapped in velvet. Her wine-red dress dipped low enough to raise questions, and the way her eyes followed Charles as he moved behind the bar? That raised answers.
She didn’t belong here. Too refined, too composed. She had the poise of someone who ran boardrooms and ruined reputations.
But tonight, she was here. Watching him.
"You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here," she said, voice a velvet purr that brushed against his spine.
Charles offered a lazy smirk, keeping his hands busy with the glassware. "That obvious?"
She tilted her head. "Men who smile like that usually have more behind the eyes. Or nothing at all."
There was a spark in the air, heavy with implication. The way she held his gaze felt like a challenge, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to back down from. He opened his mouth to say something—but the world suddenly—
Stopped.