The music hadn't changed. But something in Elena had. She hadn't moved since the moment passed—still standing near the stage, one hand ghosting against her back, her eyes lost in a crowd that suddenly felt too soft around the edges.
The scent of aged whiskey and warm skin still clung in the air. She didn't know how long she'd been like that until she heard Carmen's voice behind her—light, casual, too casual.
"Okay, good news—it was a snake, and no, i don't know what was in it, but i definitely drank some."
Elena didn't turn. Not yet.
Carmen came to her side, holding a new drink in one hand, eyes narrowing just slightly. "You look like you saw someone you weren't ready to see."
Elena blinked. Finally faced her. "I didn't," she said. The words were too quick. Too flat.
Carmen raised a brow. "Liar."
Elena exhaled through her nose, barely a smile. "Thought i felt something. Someone. Just a drunk idiot."
"Mmm." Carmen took a sip. "Was it the good kind of idiot or the kind that needs a slap?"
"Didn't stick around long enough to find out."
But her eyes drifted back over her shoulder. Just once.
Carmen clocked it. Didn't say anything right away. Just reached into her clutch and pulled out a mirror, fixing her lipstick like nothing was wrong. But she didn't miss the heat still clinging to Elena's skin. The tightness in her jaw. The way her pulse sat high in her throat.
She smiled to herself. Then glanced sideways, voice low and sharp enough to cut through the music.
"Whoever he was...he got under it."
Elena didn't ask what she meant. She didn't have to. Because she felt it too.
They returned to the booth like nothing had happened. Carmen slid in first, already halfway into a story about the bartender's jewelry, but Elena didn't hear a word. Because something was sitting on the table in front of her seat.
A key.
Black leather fob, chrome curve. Clean. Familiar.
She didn't have to pick it up to know.
It was the Mustang's.
Carmen caught the shift in her expression mid-sentence. "What?"
Elena didn't speak. She just reached forward, fingers brushing the metal. It was cool to the touch, heavy in her palm.
Too familiar. Too real.
"Okay, what is that?" Carmen asked, blinking. "Please don't say it's what i think it is."
Elena turned the key once in her fingers, the weight of it grounding and disorienting at the same time.
"It's his," she said quietly.
"His?" Carmen echoed. "As in—that guy? From the shop?"
Elena nodded once.
Carmen glanced around. "Did someone hand it to you? When? How did i miss that?"
"I don't know." She stared down at it. "I didn't see anything. Just...it was here."
Carmen stared at the key for half a second longer, then let out a quiet, frustrated breath.
"Okay," she said, sliding out of the booth. "We're done."
Elena didn't move. Carmen reached for her bag. "Get up."
"Carmen—"
"No. Nope." She stood fully now, eyes sharp, voice low enough to stay under the music but firm enough to cut through the fog. "I came here to get you out of your head, not deeper into someone else's. This is getting weird."
Elena looked down at the key in her hand.
"I didn't ask for this."
Carmen's expression softened, but just a little. "I know. But you're starting to act like you're supposed to figure it out. Like this is a puzzle you owe answers to."
Elena looked up. That landed.
Carmen held her gaze. "You don't owe anyone anything, Elena. Not him. Not his damn car. And definitely not whoever's dropping things on our table like this is a spy movie."
Elena let out a quiet sigh, then tucked the key into her bag. No argument. No goodbye. Just motion.
They left without another word, the speakeasy closing behind them with the soft click of a door that had seen too many secrets.
Outside, the air was thick and warm, but Elena finally exhaled like she hadn't been breathing inside.
Carmen didn't say i told you so. She just unlocked the car, slid into the driver's seat, and waited.
Elena sat in the passenger seat, hands still quiet in her lap.
But the key was still there.
And now it was hers.