CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT — "MISMATCH"Daemon's POVThe club was the kind of place that didn't advertise.No sign above the door. No velvet rope visible from the street. You knew about it because someone who mattered had told you, and if no one who mattered had told you, then it didn't exist. Low ceilings, dark wood, leather worn soft from decades of men who came here specifically to be left alone. Candlelight that moved but never quite reached the corners. The kind of silence that had been purchased and maintained like any other luxury — quietly, expensively, without drawing attention to the effort.A girl moved on the low stage at the back of the room.Not performing for anyone in particular. Just moving the way expensive things move when they know they're being watched — slow, unhurried, with the confidence of something that has never had to ask for attention. The man beside her had one hand at her waist, loose, proprietary, not quite holding on. Lucien's hand. His eyes were somewhere e
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