Aria's POV
I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart giving a sharp, startled thump.
"What is it, Mr. Curt?" I asked, trying to sound steady, though my wolf stirred uneasily beneath my skin.
Kevin Curt leaned against one of the supply boxes, that greasy smirk plastered across his face. His gold chain caught the afternoon light, gleaming like the gaudy prize of a man who thought too much of himself. The air around him reeked of oil, stale beer, and arrogance — and I had to fight the urge to wrinkle my nose.
He looked at me like I was prey — cornered, small, something he could toy with before deciding whether to bite. The way his eyes dragged over me made my wolf pace, restlessly within me.
"Someone did us a good deed," Kevin drawled, his voice low and slick. "Shouldn't we show a little app
