Alina’s Pov

The café smelled of warm bread and coffee when I arrived, the usual comfort I relied on every morning. I liked coming early, before the world stirred into chaos, before the doorbell jingled and orders piled up.

But as soon as I pushed open the back door, a chill ran through me not from the cool morning air, but from something that didn’t belong here. Or so I thought.

The door was ajar.

I froze, hand hovering over the handle. My pulse kicked up a notch. There was never a day ...