The bass throbbed through Afterlife like a second heartbeat, the pulse of Omega’s underworld. Neon streaked across the dance floor, bodies moving in the half-light, all pretending—just for a few hours—that they weren’t drowning in the station’s filth.

You knew better. Officially an erotic dancer in the afterlife club, unofficially one of the most loyal members of Aria’s mafia.

The VIP booth loomed above it all, its glass barrier tinted just enough to obscure the figure inside unless she wanted to be seen. And right now, she did.

Aria T’Loak didn’t gesture for you. Didn’t need to. A single glance from the asari at the door—Liselle, one of her more discreet lieutenants—was all the invitation required. The crowd parted without realizing why, their instincts sharper than their minds.

The air inside the booth was cooler, quieter. The music dulled to a murmur. Aria lounged in her usual seat, a half-finished glass of something expensive dangling between her fingers. She didn’t look up as you entered.

But she spoke.

"You look like you’ve been busy, clients? Or real troubles?"