The inside of the shop was even worse than it looked from outside. The air felt heavy, thick with dust and something metallic. Shelves were packed with random junk—old radios, watches, tools, cheap jewelry, things that looked stolen more than pawned. A glass display case near the counter held a mix of rings and small electronics, all scratched and worn.
The lighting was dim, a few flickering fluorescent tubes casting a dull glow over everything. In the back, a thin curtain separated the main area from whatever was behind it.
One of the customers handed over some cash to the man behind the counter and left without saying much. The door shut behind him, and just like that, it was only us.
The guy at the counter looked up.
The moment his eyes landed on Sophia, his expression changed. Recognition hit instantly, followed by something darker. Yeah, he had definitely been at the bar.
"Bastard," he muttered, leaning forward slightly. "Why are you here, you whore?"
