The Heart System Chapter 540

I crushed the cigarette into the ashtray and slumped back against the barstool, tilting my head until my neck popped. On the way to the restaurant, I thought I’d swing by Stingy Ladies to see how Eleanor was doing. My phone displayed eight o’clock. The sun had vanished hours earlier, and the city had quieted down long ago. Carrie had sent a text before; the meeting was scheduled for nine-thirty.

Ample time.

The bar thrummed with life as I stepped inside, rowdier than typical. Melodies wafted from the little stage at the rear, where a trio of musicians performed a mellow, blues-infused tune. The guitarist perched on a stool, his fingers drifting sluggishly over the strings, as the drummer maintained a gentle, consistent rhythm. The singer’s gravelly tone filled the air, weaving into the chime of glasses and the murmur of voices.

Every table was occupied. Some patrons huddled together, chatting above the music. Others lounged and sipped their drinks, absorbing the sounds around them. In one corner, a pair whispered heatedly in argument, while a cluster of men by the stage whooped at each crisp guitar lick. The atmosphere reeked of booze, smoke, and greasy eats, blending into a thick, comforting haze.

I claimed a spot at the bar’s end and requested a soda. Hardly the go-to beverage here, but driving awaited me soon.

From my vantage, Eleanor darted among the tables was visible. One hand balanced a tray, her stance upright, her grin polished. It never touched her gaze. Sharp observers would notice. She chuckled at patrons’ jokes, inclined her head to their words, yet it felt mechanical. Like mere routine.

Rest was what she needed. Charlotte had granted her the night off, but clearly, that hadn’t held. Naturally not. Brooding solo after such trauma? Pass.

Moments passed before a voice snapped me from my reverie. “Soda, huh, man?”

Charlotte’s tone drew me back. She approached, scrubbing the counter before me with a rag.

“At least grab a beer or whatever,” she continued. “Help the business.”

“Got to drive tonight,” I replied, rapping the glass side gently.

“A single beer won’t hurt.”

“Probably not, but soda it is.”

She rolled her eyes as if I’d slighted her deeply, snatched my spent bottle, twisted off a cap from a new one, and slid it over. “You’re dull.”

“Heard worse.”

I sparked another cigarette, inhaled deeply, then released the smoke in a slow stream. It twisted skyward, vanishing in the smoky veil. Leaning in, I propped an elbow on the bar, cradling my forehead in my hand. Fatigue weighed on my lids.

Silk.

She existed for real. No figment of imagination. Mana and Dierella’s reactions confirmed it... pure alarm. Genuine fear.

What in blazes was she?

“You look set to unravel life’s secrets,” Charlotte remarked, eyeing me.

“Just pondering.”

“Risky pastime.”

“Yeah,” I grumbled. “How’s Eleanor faring?”

Charlotte traced my stare to the floor. Eleanor delivered a beer to a patron, agreeing with his chatter.

“As you see,” Charlotte answered.

“That damn Brok,” I muttered quietly.

“Who?”

“The bastard behind yesterday’s chaos. The one who swung at her. And Sophia.”

Charlotte’s face hardened a touch. “Right. That one.”

“Total scum.”

A man two seats away gestured demandingly. “Hey! Beer!”

Charlotte exhaled. “On it.”

I sipped my soda again and looked over once more. Eleanor approached the bar, tray cleared. Our gazes locked, and she offered a gentle smile. Warmer than for customers. Genuine, somewhat.

She placed the tray down and rested against the counter, near enough to hear amid the tunes.

“Happy you showed up.”

I breathed out softly. “Not thrilled you did. You belong at home.”

She cocked her head. “And then? Stew in silence?”

“Preferable to this.”

“Questionable.” She shrugged lightly. “Here, distractions abound.”

“Through labor?”

“Through company.”

Arguing seemed pointless. Impossible, even.

“Sound reasoning,” I noted.

“Naturally,” she shot back, a spark of wit emerging.

“Tray up!” another server shouted from the bar’s rear.

Eleanor turned. Beers, clean ashtrays, fries waited.

She straightened. “Back to work.”

“Ease up, okay?”

“Promise. No sweat.”

She snatched the tray and darted away once more, gliding smoothly amid the tables with expert finesse. For a brief moment, I simply stared after her, my gaze lingering far too long. Snapping out of it, I averted my eyes and took another gulp.

No more squandering time.

I hopped down from the stool, drew out a few bills, and laid them on the counter. Charlotte scooped them up in silence, tucking them away as though she refused to even register my presence. Fair play.

Turning to depart, I caught Eleanor glancing back from across the room. She raised her hand for a tiny wave. I nodded in response.

"Leaving already?"

Sophia’s voice rang out from behind.

I whirled around to see her planted there, arms folded tight, her stance as unyielding as always. The bruise on her cheek lingered faintly beneath the murky lights.

"Yeah," I said. "Got somewhere to be."

Her eyes tightened a fraction. "What about Brok?"

"I’ll figure something out."

"Better do it fast," she replied. "If that bastard comes back and tries something again, I won’t sit around waiting."

"What are you planning?"

She shrugged, yet the gesture held no lightness. "I know people. Not the kind you want involved unless you have to."

"Don’t," I said, sharper than meant. "Let me handle it."

"Then handle it," she fired back. "Before it gets worse."

I let out a slow breath. "I will."

She pinned me with her stare a beat longer, then shifted aside.

"Good."

I strode toward the door, the bar’s clamor softening with every stride. The music, voices, clashing glasses—they all melted into a distant hum behind.

Outside hit with cooler, hushed air. City lights sprawled forth, and out there lurked Jack Kuinn.

Tonight, he claimed my full attention.

⟁ ⟁ ⟁