Eluna’s P.O.V.
I was three dirty dishes, two fumbled orders, and one accidental iced tea to the lap away from quitting my job, buying a one-way ticket to the Yukon, and becoming a cryptid.
But no.
Instead, I was dodging customers, balancing a tray like a circus act, and hyper-fixating on a guy in the corner who looked like he’d used words like ‘pulitzer’ and ‘unnamed source’ in his group chats. I wasn’t even his waitress—thank the moon—but I still clocked him the second he walked in. Khaki pants. Button-up shirt. The air of someone who thought they were being subtle when they kept looking around like he was about to spot Elvis.
“Please just be a traveling birdwatcher,” I whispered under my breath. But no. My gut—and the little snarl my inner wolf Tabitha gave when she scented the faint
