The rain had been falling for hours, thick and cold, turning the city streets into black mirrors. Elena stood under the leaking awning of the old warehouse district, her thin blouse plastered to her skin, the outline of her bra clear through the soaked fabric. Her nipples were already hard from the chill, pushing against the lace cups. She should have left the moment the last bus pulled away. She should have called a car. Instead she waited, heart thudding, because he had texted only two words:

Come. Now.