BY THE TIME Jax dropped the tempo and let the last track bleed into something softer, the night had blurred into heat and motion. Elysium still pulsed beneath his boots, but the crowd had thinned. The reckless ones had drifted downstairs to Inferno or spilled into the Quarter in search of food or trouble or both; the rest clung to corners and barstools, sweating under the cathedral’s golden glow.

Jax eased the volume down another notch, let the playlist take over, and slipped his headphones around his neck. His heart still beat a little too hard, nerves lit with the leftover high of the set. Normally that energy felt clean—earned.

Tonight it felt… wrong. Tilted. Like it belonged to someone else.