“You're late," Greta snapped.
Stella didn't bother explaining. She'd barely slept. Between the humiliation in the hall and the stifling attic heat, time blurred into noise.
“Double shift today," Greta continued. “The diner's short-staffed. Luna Victoria arranged for you to help cover the dinner crowd."
Stella frowned. “The one in town?"
Greta nodded. “The only one. Wear a smile. Or fake one."
---
The diner was loud, greasy, and suffocating—but compared to the mansion, it was almost peaceful.
Stella tied on an apron, rolled her sleeves, and got to work. She took orders. Carried trays. Nodded when barked at.
At least here, no one called her a killer.
Until the doorbell chimed—and five familiar wolves strutted in, led by Joseph.
She froze.
He sauntered to the biggest booth and drop
