Luna on a Chain

Chapter Two

“Did you find the car keys?” Maya shouted from the hallway.

“No,” I shouted back—and immediately caught my pant leg and crashed to the floor.

Loud, unfiltered swearing poured from my perfectly made-up lips. As if it wasn’t bad enough that we’d both overslept for work—now this fall, too. Getting back on my feet, I quickly pulled myself together, fixed my hair, and a moment later stood by the front door fully presentable.

Maya was rushing around the apartment like a cornered rabbit. Following her movements with my eyes, I sighed heavily and asked:

“What are you looking for?”

She froze and, staring at me with frightened eyes, said:

“I think I left my purse at the hospital yesterday.”

That was just perfect. After exchanging a few more well-chosen curses, we headed off to work. Our lateness wouldn’t go unnoticed. Maya was the head chef of the restaurant, and I was the manager. You could say that without us, work hardly even began. We decided to go back for the purse after the workday ended.

The café Peach Paradise was already open. Slipping in through the back entrance, Maya darted into the staff room, while I went straight to my small office. My day was packed with paperwork, so after turning on the computer, I started filling out invoices and bills. Time passed quickly.

There was a knock at the door. After answering that they could come in, I set the documents aside. One of the waitresses, Lera, entered the office.

“Vera Konstantinovna, one of the guests is asking for you.”

Well, here come the problems. And everything had been so calm. Sighing heavily, I cast a stern look at the girl.

“What’s the issue? Who was serving the table?”

“I was, but I honestly have no idea what the problem is.”

“Let’s go figure it out.”

Entering the dining hall, I followed the waitress. At the table sat an attractive man in a suit and a striking brunette. The man seemed very familiar, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember where I’d seen him before. Pushing those thoughts aside and putting on a friendly smile, I said:

“Good afternoon. I’m the administrator, Strelnikova Vera Konstantinovna. How can I help you?”

“Good afternoon,” the brunette smiled in return. “This dessert,” she gestured toward the plate, “is so wonderful that I simply can’t leave without meeting the person who made it.”

“Lera,” I addressed the waitress standing behind me, “please bring the person who prepared the dessert.” Then I turned back to the guests. “We’re very glad you enjoyed it.”

Suddenly another waitress called out to me from behind, and I had to step away after apologizing. One of our suppliers was calling. Answering the phone, I continued watching the table. Where had I seen that man before?

I held my breath. It turned out Maya had made the dessert. Her hands worked miracles with dough. I had to admit—my friend fully deserved the flood of compliments she was receiving. Finishing the conversation with the supplier, I smiled as I watched Maya’s eyes shine while she spoke with the brunette. Then I shifted my gaze to the man.

He looked slightly stern. His eyes traveled over my friend from head to toe, as if she herself were a dessert meant just for him.

“Vera Konstantinovna,” my boss’s voice sounded behind me, “please come to my office.”

“Of course, Viktor Ivanovich,” I replied, casting one last glance at my happy friend before entering the chef’s office.

Closing the door behind me, I sat down on the chair across from the desk. Viktor Ivanovich reached his armchair and sank heavily into it. The years were taking their toll. He was already at a very respectable age, where managing a restaurant had become a burden—but he stubbornly held onto the reins, waiting until his grandson grew up enough to take over.

“Verotchka,” he began gently—and that always meant he was displeased—“how did you let the dairy order slip through? We had to remove half the items from today’s menu.”

Taking a deep breath before the difficult conversation, I began:

“Viktor Ivanovich, I warned you that this supplier was unreliable. Let me remind you—it was you who insisted on working with him.”

After forty minutes of pressure from my boss, I left his office feeling like a squeezed lemon. I had to cope with the stress of the past few days by eating something sweet—alone.

At the end of the workday, Maya came to get me, and we headed home together.

The moment we stepped out through the café’s back entrance, a wave of raw terror washed over me. Panicked, I began turning my head, searching for its source. The alley was quiet and empty, as usual. Maya noticed my state and took my arm, pulling me along.

“Why are you looking around like a scared deer?”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“Don’t worry. This time I’ll try not to let trouble get near you.”

My instincts didn’t fail me. Dark silhouettes appeared at the far end of the alley. Two huge men in black suits blocked our path. Maya released my arm and took a step back. I kept staring at the men without looking away. If they were ordinary humans, I could take them easily—but if they were werewolves…

A noise came from behind, and I spun around sharply. A few steps away stood that same man—the morning guest from the café. Maya was slung over his shoulder, completely unconscious.

Only then did I finally remember where I had seen him before.

He was the very werewolf we had encountered at the hospital yesterday.

“Let my friend go!” I shouted.

The man curved his lips into a smile that looked more like a snarl and replied:

“I can’t, no matter how much I’d like to. She’s mine now. And as for you—we need to decide what to do with you. We don’t need witnesses.”

Now fear for my own life hit me full force. Fleabags had never been squeamish about covering their tracks. Glancing back, I realized the two men were simply standing there, watching. Slowly, I reached for my purse. The man noticed and twisted his face in irritation.

“Don’t do anything stupid. I doubt there’s anything in your purse that could help you.”

My hands shaking, I opened my purse, pulled out a spray can, and aimed it at him.

He burst out laughing.

“And what exactly are you planning to do with that?”