Chapter 89
Untitled
The sun had long since set, and the city's nocturnal pulse quickened. Evelyn found herself in a dimly lit alley, heart racing as she approached an unmarked door. She knocked three times, paused, then twice more. A small panel slid open, revealing a pair of scrutinizing eyes.
"Swordfish," Evelyn whispered, the password rolling off her tongue with practiced ease.
The door creaked open, and she stepped into the pulsating heart of the speakeasy. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the heady scent of illicit alcohol. Jazz music wove through the crowd, its syncopated rhythms a stark contrast to the stuffy waltzes of her past life.
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