Scarlet pushed open the heavy door of the red-and-black bar and stepped inside. Smoke curled around the paired stools at the long counter. She came here to find one desperate demon she could trust — one name from her list who might help her build the haven Overcast needed. Pick wrong, and hunters would learn her plans before the walls went up. She slid onto a stool and watched the room through the mirror behind the bottles. Three demons. Two laughed too loud. The third sat alone, a white-furred hound at her feet, its red eyes fixed on the door. The hound's ink-black paws didn't shift. That kind of stillness only came from being hunted. Scarlet carried two drinks over and set one down. "Your handler crossed you out last week," she said quietly. "I haven't." The woman's hand tightened on the glass. The hound growled low, then went silent at a touch. "What do you want?" the woman asked. "A door," Scarlet said. "A back room. People who stop running." The woman stared a long moment, then nodded once. Scarlet exhaled. One name uncrossed. But the hound's ears swung toward the front window — and outside, a shape had stopped to look in.