Scarlet
The morning rush was already in full swing when I tied my apron around my waist and grabbed my notepad. The air inside the restaurant smelled of freshly brewed coffee, maple syrup, and sizzling bacon, and the sound of clinking silverware mixed with laughter and chatter. It was the kind of morning that made me feel alive.
I had picked up an extra shift for Saturday morning, and for once, I didn’t regret it. The restaurant was in the area of the town humans lived in, far from the suffocating weight of supernatural politics, and I loved it there. No alphas growling orders, no whispered alliances, no threats lurking in the shadows—just good food, good people, and a whole lot of coffee.
“Scarlet, can you take Table Six?” Leo, the head waiter, called over the noise. He was a twenty-so
