The club felt wrong the moment Alfred walked in. Not dangerous. Just wrong.

Too quiet. Too still. As if the air held something unsaid. Esme wasn't at the bar. Sid wasn't at the door.

The pianist played something low and moody, the kind of tune you heard at funerals where no one wanted to admit they were grieving.

Alfred moved through the room like a ghost threading through the living.

He found Esme backstage. She stood before her dressing mirror, hands trembling as she applied lipstick. When she saw him in the glass, she didn't smile.

"You missed rehearsal," she said softly.

"I was—"

"I know." Her voice sliced the excuse clean.

He closed the door behind him. "What's wrong?"

She didn't turn. The mirror showed her eyes instead—glassy, distant, trying not to crack. "A man came by earlier," she said. "Asked about you."

Alfred felt something pinch behind his ribs.

"What man?"

"Gaunt," she whispered. "He said he was a friend."

Alfred crossed the room quickly, kneeling beside her stool. "Esme—did he say anything else?"

She swallowed. "He said you'd been offered an opportunity. That refusing would be... unfortunate."

His jaw tightened so hard it hurt. "He didn't touch you?"

"No." Her voice wavered. "But he didn't have to. He looked at me like I wasn't even a person. Like I was furniture."

Alfred took her hand, smoothing his thumb across her knuckles. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry he came near you. I should've—"

Esme leaned into him suddenly, pressing her face against his shoulder. "Alfred, I'm scared. You're getting pulled into something dark."

"I know," he said quietly.

"You always run toward fire," she whispered. "But this one... this feels different."

He held her tighter. "I'll keep you safe," he told her.

"Then stay," she whispered. "Just stay. Forget the Ravens. Forget the Americans. Forget all of them."

His eyes closed. He wanted to. God, he wanted to.

But tomorrow he had another meeting with Gaunt. And after what Esme had just told him, walking away wasn't an option anymore.

"Give me a little longer," he said. "Just a little."

She pulled back, eyes shining with something fragile and fierce. "I'll wait."

He kissed her forehead. "Good," he said softly. "Because I'm not plannin' on makin' this a long goodbye."

They held each other for a long moment, and for that brief span, he could almost believe he still had a choice.