Sammie adjusted the black choker around her neck for the third time in as many minutes, her gloved fingers twitching against the leather. The alley behind the club smelled like spilled beer and burnt electronics, but at least it was quiet—just the distant thump of bass through the brick walls and the occasional crackle of a dying neon sign overhead. She exhaled, watching her breath mist in the cold air, then leaned back against the damp concrete.
"You look like you're waiting for someone,"