AIDEN
The café near the river was busy in a way that felt intentional rather than comforting, the kind of place people chose when they wanted to be seen without being noticed. I arrived early and picked a table with a clear view of the entrance and the street outside, then adjusted my chair so no one could come up behind me without stepping into my line of sight. My wolf took in the space at the same time I did, his awareness spreading wider than mine, brushing against every moving body and every open exit. This place is wrong, he said clearly, not as a feeling but as a judgment. He chose it because exposure protects him. I rested my forearms on the table and kept my posture loose, forcing myself not to react to the edge in his voice. "He wants witnesses without witnesses," I thought
