Clara’s pov
I made the decision in the middle of the breakfast rush, right after a trucker twice my size leaned too far over the counter and asked if I lived alone upstairs.
Marnie shut it down before I could, but the question stuck. So did the memory of the shifter whose wolf I’d silenced, the note under the door warning me about old bloodlines, and the way Ronan Vale had looked at me like he could see every unprotected edge I still had.
By the time the lunch crowd thinned I was done pretending awareness and a sharp tongue were enough.
I found Theo during my break. He took one look at my face and poured the coffee without asking.
“You’re planning something,” he said.
“I need to learn how to fight.”
He set the cup down slowly. “Okay. Define fight.”
“Self-defense. Real self-defense.
