Aria’s POV

“Stay,” His cold voice cut through the air, making me freeze on my steps. My grip tightened on the knob, my shoulders tensing. He stands from the bed in all his glory, unabashedly staring at me. He walked towards me, naked, without any shame in the world with his length dangling between his legs.

“I can't, I have someplace to be,” I said coldly, blinking, focusing my eyes straight ahead from him. He doesn’t even stop. He just kept walking towards me and only stopped when his breath mingled with mine, slapping his palm to the door behind me.

“Please?” He murmured, his lips brushing against mine. I gripped my bag tight, feeling a throb in between my legs from our proximity. His eyes, gods, his eyes bored into mine, like he knew I was telling a lie, and didn't even care.

That was how I found myself on the bed with him, his hands wrapped around my waist as he breathed into my Neck. I didn’t sleep that night. I wasn’t ready for any sort of connection. At least, that was what I told myself. He made me feel something that I badly didn't need now.

When I he had slackened, just a bit, I slipped off into the night, away from the bar, away from the streets, away from the pack.

Three Months Later.

The smell of brewing coffee was my alarm clock, my constant companion. It clung to my clothes, my hair, even seeped into my skin. It was a comforting smell, a sign of my new normal. The bell above the door of “The Daily Grind” jingled, signalling another customer, and I instinctively straightened, a practiced smile already on my face.

Life in the Evergreen Pack was… quiet. After days of walking, I’d stumbled into their territory, exhausted and half-starved. They hadn’t asked many questions.

A kind-faced elder, with eyes that saw too much, had offered me a place to stay in a small cottage on the edge of town and a job at the local café. I hadn’t told them about being Luna, about Elias, about the barrenness that had shattered my world. I just said I was a rogue seeking a fresh start, and they’d nodded, seemingly satisfied.

My name here was just Aria. No title, no expectations. Just a girl who poured coffee and wiped down tables. It was mundane, sometimes boring, but it was safe. I lived pay cheque to pay cheque, and most of my money went to rent and food. I learned to stretch every dollar, to appreciate the simple warmth of a hot meal, the quiet hum of the cafe.

“Excuse me!” A shrill voice cut through the soft jazz music playing overhead, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked up to see Mrs. Henderson, a woman whose perfectly coiffed hair and perpetually pursed lips were a familiar sight, tapping her manicured finger against the counter. Her face was a storm cloud.

“Yes, Mrs. Henderson?” I asked, my voice calm despite the rising irritation. She was famous for her complaints. Her morning routine involved finding fault with something, anything.

“This,” she declared, pushing a half-empty cup of what was supposed to be a caramel latte towards me, “is simply unacceptable. It’s too sweet. Far too sweet! And where is the extra foam I requested? This is barely a whisper of foam, dear.”

I leaned, looking into the cup she said had a problem. It looked perfectly fine to me. A cup of caramel latte with enough foam. I had made sure I made it by myself, following her clear instructions, even though her orders usually changed.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Henderson,” I started aclmly, making sure to keep the anger away from my voice. “I followed your instructions exactly. Two pumps of caramel, extra foam, just as you wrote it on the order.”

She scoffed, a dramatic sound that always made the few other customers in the café subtly turn their heads. “Nonsense! I distinctly remember asking for less caramel, and triple foam. Are you even listening when people order, girl? Or are you just daydreaming about… whatever it is you people daydream about?”

The way she subtly mocked me using my rogue status, basically saying that I wasn't as sharp as most of the normal people in a pack, stung. More than I'd care to admit. My old self, the Luna, would have snapped, or at least try to assert some sort of awareness. But the new Aria? The ordinary café worker? She just sighed internally and hoped this would go well.

“I assure you, I listen to every order carefully,” I said, picking up the offending cup. “I can remake it for you, of course. How would you like it this time?” I forced a pleasant smile, even though I wanted to dunk her head in the espresso machine.

“Well, you clearly didn’t listen the first time, did you?” she sniffed, crossing her arms. “And I’m already late for my Pilates class. This is simply dreadful service. I expect better from the only café in town.”

I fought the urge to give back a sharp retort. My job was on the line, my only source of income. I couldn’t risk it, so I stood there like a mannequin and tried to salvage the situation so it doesn't get out of hand, but damn, Mrs Henderson was like a weapon fashioned against me today.

“I understand your frustration, Mrs. Henderson,” I said, trying a different tactic. “Perhaps if you could be very specific this time, I can ensure it’s exactly to your liking?”

She opened her mouth defin, but then, the quiet hum of the café was broken by the sharp, clear chime of the bell above the door. It wasn’t the gentle jingle of a regular customer. This was a deeper, more resonant sound, like a heavy hand had pushed the door open.

I didn’t look up right away, my attention still on Mrs. Henderson’s perpetually dissatisfied face. I was bracing myself for her next complaint.

“Leave her alone.”

The voice was a low rumble, deep and smooth, yet laced with an undeniable edge of cold authority. It cut through the air, silencing Mrs. Henderson’s impending outburst mid-breath. It was a voice that made the hairs on my arms stand on end, a voice that was both familiar and utterly alien in this mundane setting.

Mrs Henderson surprisingly paused. She turned slowly, her smug, annoying expression paling.

My breath caught in my throat. Him. The man from that night. He stood there, his hands fixed in his pockets, his dark eyes boring holes into me.