~Zoe~
Three days after infiltrating a billionaire werewolf's private island, I was ordering a latte at my favorite coffee shop like it was just another Thursday.
"The usual?" Marco asked, already reaching for the oat milk. Five years of Thursday mornings had made my order as predictable as Seattle rain.
"Make it a double shot today," I said, sliding my card across the counter. The bags under my eyes told the story my lips couldn't – I hadn't slept more than three hours a night since returning from San Juan Island. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Elara with silver light flowing beneath her skin, standing beside Damon Marx like they were partners rather than predator and prey.
"Rough week?" Marco asked with the casual concern of someone who tracked your life in coffee orders.
"You c
