I could’ve sworn the barista’s gaze never left me while he prepared our coffees. There was something unsettling in his movements, a predator's focus as he kept an eye on his prey—me. A chill began to creep up my spine, and I quickly averted my gaze, fearing the rising panic within me might overtake my mind. But as long as I could see Icarus standing just outside, my breathing began to slow, my anxiety subsiding.

“Oh, here comes our coffee!” Mireille chirped, spotting Rafe as ...