Elara’s POV

The strong stench of whiskey wafted through the air, assaulting my nostrils as I cleaned a glass cup absentmindedly. I didn’t like the scent—it always made me want to throw up—but my brain had grown used to it and learned to ignore it.

I breathed through my teeth, placing the last cup on the stand, my eyes burning with exhaustion. My limbs felt weak, but I wasn't anywhere near stopping—not until the patrons were done drinking.

It was past midnight, and yet more people kept trooping into the bar.

“Congratulations, Elara. You've caught someone’s interest!” Veronica, my colleague, chirped, nudging me with her elbow.

I rolled my eyes, forcing a plastic smile onto my lips.

“Who?” I asked absently, picking up a cocktail. I wasn't genuinely interested in whoever it was. Ever since I escaped the Mystic Woods and picked up a job as a bartender, I’d gotten proposals from a lot of humans.

Things were quite different in the human world.

The Luna Goddess didn’t assign them mates—they had the right to go after whoever they wanted, whenever they wanted.

It was frustrating… but on the other hand, it gave them the freedom to choose. And judging from the way they gawked at me, my guess was that they liked beautiful, curvy women.

“The two gentlemen in the booth. They haven’t taken their eyes off you,” she teased.

I turned slowly, glancing in their direction. My gaze fell on the two men sitting in the corner. The one closest to the window had a sharp jaw. He was dressed in a dark coat, his fingers tapping against the table, eyes were half lidded.

The other one was worse.

He sat with one leg over the other, arms crossed, as if the room belonged to him. A thick scar ran down the side of his face, crossing one eye and stopping just above his lips. And yet, despite the injury—or maybe because of it—he looked...calm.

Their gazes flicked back to me occasionally, as if I held what might interest them.

“They give me weird vibes,” I muttered.

“Yeah, but no one's taken their order,” Veronica said, shrugging. “Everyone's too busy. You’re not doing anything, so…”

I looked at her like she’d just sentenced me to death.

“I could just tell the boss I’m…”

She cut me off with a pointed glance upward.

Right.

The cameras.

The boss was always watching, even when we pretended he wasn’t. Probably sipping on scotch from his office chair, waiting for a reason to dock our pay.

I hissed loudly under my breath,

“Fine.”

The weight of dread settled in my stomach as I forced my legs to move, crossing the room slowly.

I stopped in front of their booth,my heart hammering. My throat felt dry. I cleared it anyway, feigning a confidence I wished I had.

“Good evening,” I said, voice strained but steady. “What would you like tonight?”

The scarred one looked up slowly, lifting his face until his eyes met mine. I struggled to maintain a straight face..

His lips tugged into a chilling smile. It felt like he knew that he scared me and enjoyed it.

I stepped back instinctively, fingers tightening around the notepad in my hands like it was a shield. I fought the urge to run, instead lifting my chin slightly.

“If you’re not ordering anything,” I said, trying to sound firm, “security will have to ask you to leave.”

The second man finally looked up, his expression softening. His eyes were apologetic.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice calm and smooth. “He’s… going through a heartbreak. Explains why he’s acting a little off.”

Heartbreak? What kind of heartbreak left a man looking like he’d murder someone just to feel better?

He extended a hand casually across the table.

“I’m Jason. We don’t want any smoke. Just drinks.”

I didn’t take the hand.

I cut him off before he could say more,

“I’m just here to take orders.”

He smiled again, more genuinely this time, and nodded.

“Whiskey. Two glasses.”

I scribbled quickly and turned away, walking fast till I got to the counter. When I stood behind the counter, I released a breath I didn't realize that I was holding.

“Freaks,” I muttered under my breath.

“What happened?” Veronica asked, smirking like she already knew.

“They’re weird,” I said, pouring the whiskey into glasses with hands that still trembled a little. “The one with the scar smiled at me like… like he wanted to skin me alive.”

She laughed, loud and careless,

Maybe he just thought you were cute.”

I didn’t laugh.

There was nothing funny about the way that man looked at me.

I placed the drinks on a tray and carried them back to their table in silence, setting them down without a word, then retreating quickly to the safety of the counter.

When the clock struck two am, I walked out of the bar, exhaustion weighing me down. My bag was slung loosely on my shoulders as I dragged my weak legs down the tarred roads. I walked for a while till I got to my apartment and I slammed the door behind me, a sigh escaping through my lips.

I tossed my heels to a corner of the room and rubbed the sore arch of my foot. The room felt warmer than usual, almost stuffy, so I shrugged off my coat and hung it by the door.

I dragged myself into the tiny kitchen area, turned on the kettle, and sat on the stool, waiting. My eyes stayed fixed on the old, rust-stained tile beneath my feet, but my mind was already drifting away from the room. I couldn't shake off the fact that they knew something about me.

My pack wouldn't dare send someone out to search for me, would they?

My hands clenched unconsciously on the counter.

The whistling of the kettle snapped me out of the thoughts. I added coffee, milk and sugar to the mixture before taking the mug to the living room, blowing it softly on the surface before taking a sip.

Just as I was about to relax, the wind slithered through the curtains, my muscles stiffening as a cold chill ran down my spine, raising goose bumps along my arms.

I turned my head slowly toward the window, my heart beat increasing.

“…Is it going to rain tonight?” I asked softly, to no one.

I hated the rain. Always had. Something about the way thunder tore through the sky frightened me. Each time it rained, I'd cuddle myself and pray to the luna goddess to take it away.

Rain made me feel small.

Vulnerable.

I set the mug down on the coffee table and stood up, hugging my arms to my chest as I padded across the room to the window.

I reached for the frame and froze. He was there. He was standing across the street, his eyes fixed at the window. When his eyes met mine,he smiled.

My heart plummeted to my stomach. I stumbled backward, pulling the curtains shut with trembling fingers and drawing them tight like they were my last defense. Maybe they were.

I didn't need a magician to tell me that his other brother was lurking around in the shadows.

My breath hitched in my throat. I turned sharply, eyes scanning the room, panic clawing up to my throat.

I rushed over to my phone which was on the table, nearly knocking the goddamn coffe over as I grabbed it and dialed 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“There’s a man outside,” I whispered, backing away from the window, gripping the phone like a lifeline,

“He followed me home. He’s standing outside my apartment.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Yes—he’s—he’s tall, dark coat, a scar over his eye. He was at the bar earlier—he didn’t say much but he kept watching me—please, just…”

The lights flickered and I froze, my face draining of all colours till I stumbled against the wall.

“Hello,” the voice at the other end called.

I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come out that easily. I felt my throat tighten.

Who were they? Why did they come for me?

Suddenly, I felt a warm breath grace the nape of my neck.

One thing was sure, I wasn't alone.