The end of her shift arrived like the last breath before collapse.
Her muscles trembled from exhaustion, her fingers wrinkled and sore from endless hot water, and yet the moment she stepped outside the restaurant, a strange alertness took over her body. The night air felt sharper, colder, filled with movement she could not see but somehow sensed.
A black SUV waited at the curb.
Not Caleb’s.
Larger. Darker. Heavier.
The driver stepped out the moment he saw her.
He was enormous.
Broad shoulders stretching the seams of his jacket, neck thick with muscle, presence unmistakably predatory even in stillness. His scent carried the unmistakable signature of a werewolf — powerful, disciplined, loyal.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than polite curiosity allowed.
“You are Iva,”
