Chapter 8

Marie’s POV

Iron Wolves doesn't look like much from the outside — brick, blacked-out windows, a sign that's been repainted more than once. Inside it's a different story: exposed beams, string lights, a stage built by someone who actually understood sightlines. The smell of stale beer, lemon floor cleaner, and old wood hits me the second the heavy front door thuds shut. It's empty this time of afternoon, the kind of quiet that feels massive in a room built for noise.

I stand there for a second just taking it in—the polished concrete floor, the long mahogany bar stretching along the far wall, the high-end speakers suspended from the rafters. It isn't a dive. It's a real venue, built with money and actual care.

"You made it." Luke pops up from behind the bar, clipboard in one hand, breakfast burrito in the other. He wipes his hand on his jeans before waving me over. "This a surprise audit, or should I be nervous?&quo