Lycans
1774 Words
The days began to blur together.
Wake up in a narrow hostel bed with springs that dug into her back. Pull on worn clothes still faintly smelling of detergent and steam. Tie her hair up tight. Walk through streets that were slowly becoming familiar. Push through the heavy back door of the restaurant.
Work.
Keep your head down.
Do your job.
Survive.
The kitchen no longer shocked her system the way it had on the first day, but that didn’t make it easier. Heat still clung to her skin. The noise still pressed against her skull. The piles of dirty pans still seemed endless. Her hands were constantly raw now, fingers wrapped in cheap bandages she replaced daily.
Agonising.
Hard.
Relentless.
But she endured. Avalon helped her with the healing… but doing it too often would attract attention of the humans around her, so she kept it to the minimum.
For the people around her, this was just a job. A paycheck. A temporary inconvenience.
For Iva, it was everything.
It was the thin line between eating and starving.
Between having a roof over her head or sleeping outside.
Between staying free or being forced back into a life she had escaped with blood and fear in her throat.
No one here knew that.
They didn’t know she had crossed borders under moonlight.
They didn’t know she had severed a mate bond and run from an entire pack.
They didn’t know that each plate she scrubbed was another hour she bought for herself.
And slowly, something shifted.
After a few days, the novelty of her presence wore off.
The waiters stopped hovering near her sink. The snide comments came less often. The laughter faded when they realized she would not snap back, would not cry, would not rise to their bait.
She worked.
She listened.
She endured.
And boredom replaced cruelty. And she was grateful for it.
By the end of her fifth shift, she could move through the chaos without flinching. She anticipated stacks before they landed. She learned which pans needed soaking and which needed brute force. Her muscles adapted, aching less, moving more efficiently.
Avalon watched quietly, pride humming beneath her words. You are learning how to stay.
At the end of the week, when the kitchen finally quieted and the last pan slid into its place with a dull metallic clang, Iva wiped her hands on her apron and exhaled.
“Done.”
As she reached for her bag, Sergio appeared at her side.
“Iva,” he said. “Come with me.”
Her body tensed instantly.
A million thoughts slammed into her mind. Did I mess up? Break something? Say something wrong? Is this it?
Avalon stirred, alert but calm.
Sergio seemed to sense it. He paused, then added in a quieter tone only for her ears, “Relax, little wolf. I mean no harm.”
She followed him down a narrow corridor into a small office at the back. The space smelled faintly of coffee and paper. He gestured toward a chair.
“Sit.”
She did.
He opened a drawer, pulled out an envelope, and slid it across the desk toward her.
Iva stared at it, confused.
Sergio chuckled softly. “Your weekly pay.”
Her breath caught.
Slowly, as if afraid it might vanish, she picked it up. Her fingers tightened around it, and inside her chest something burst open.
My first money.
Inside, she was screaming. Laughing. Crying.
Outwardly, she swallowed and nodded. “Thank you.”
“You earned it,” he said simply. “You did great work.”
She blinked, surprised.
“Our last dishwashers?” he continued. “Two of them. Resigned on the spot. Didn’t last even a shift. This is a tough station.”
She nodded, understanding now. “Yes. It is.”
He studied her for a moment, then leaned back in his chair.
“You can go,” he said. Then, as she stood, he added, almost casually, “One more thing.”
She paused at the door.
“What is your story, little wolf?” he asked. “How are you a lone wolf at your age? You must have a family, especially as I can sense that you are not an Omega.”
The question settled heavily between them.
For a moment, she considered lying. For another, she considered telling him everything. The pack. The escape. The bond. The pain.
Instead, she smiled tightly, as she decided to stay cautious.
“Some things,” she said softly, “are better left unspoken.”
Sergio’s eyes sharpened for a brief second. Then he nodded.
“Fair enough.”
She left.
--
The next day was her only day off.
She woke early, energy buzzing through her despite the soreness in her body. The first thing she did was rush to the bank, clutching the envelope like it might disappear.
When the teller counted the money, Iva froze.
The amount was… more than generous. More than she had expected. Enough to breathe a little easier. Enough to stretch her time.
For a second, she thought it was a mistake last night as she started at the check in her hands.
She dialed Sergio with trembling fingers.
“There must be an error,” she said quickly when he answered. “The amount—”
He laughed. “No error.”
“But—”
“You worked hard,” he cut in. “And you kept your mouth shut. That’s worth something.”
She swallowed. “Thank you.”
“Get some rest,” he said. “On Sunday we do it again.”
The call ended.
Now, Iva stood there in the sunlight, money tucked safely away, heart pounding with something dangerously close to hope.
She wasn’t safe yet.
She wasn’t free yet.
But for the first time since she ran, she wasn’t drowning either.
And that… was enough to keep going.
Her first stop wasn’t back to the hostel.
Iva walked with purpose through the city streets, the envelope hidden deep inside her jacket, her senses alert despite the daylight. She didn’t relax until she stepped inside and headed straight for the row of safe deposit boxes where she had rented when she arrived in town a box.
When the small metal box slid open, she exhaled.
Inside lay her entire fragile world:
her documents neatly wrapped,
her birth certificate,
her ID,
her school diploma,
and the modest pile of cash she had scraped together before running away.
She added most of her paycheck to it, fingers lingering for a moment before closing the box.
Better safe than sorry.
She’d learned that lesson. What if she were robbed? What if the hostel room was broken into? What if someone followed her? Losing money would hurt—but losing her documents would be catastrophic.
She locked the box carefully, twice checking the number, then turned away.
Only then did she allow herself to breathe.
With the remaining cash, she went straight back to the hostel and paid for another full week upfront. The receptionist barely looked up, uninterested as always. The dull clack of the register echoed like a small victory in Iva’s chest.
A roof over her head was non-negotiable.
She hated the place—the thin walls, the smell of old detergent and damp carpet, the way the hallway lights flickered at night, the shady people that were renting in that place—but it was temporary. Everything was temporary. She just had to hold on long enough.
And for the first time since she’d run…
She allowed herself to think about food.
Real food.
Her mouth watered instantly, her stomach twisting painfully in response. Working in a restaurant had been a special kind of torture—surrounded by aromas she couldn’t afford, scrubbing plates smeared with sauces richer than anything she’d tasted in weeks.
Just one decent meal, she thought. Just once.
She was already imagining it when her phone rang.
Sergio.
Her brows knitted together as she answered. “Hello?”
“Iva,” he said sharply, urgency bleeding through his normally controlled tone. “We need you back at the restaurant. Now.”
She stopped walking. “What? But—you said the place was closed today.”
“It was,” he replied. “Plans changed.”
Something in his voice made her spine stiffen.
“What happened?”
There was a brief pause. Then, quietly but firmly, Sergio said, “The big boss arrives in two hours. With an entire entourage.”
Iva frowned as she asked innocently. “Can’t you tell him no?”
A bitter huff of laughter came through the phone. “Trust me. He is not the kind of man you say no to.”
Her stomach dropped.
“I’m on my way,” she said immediately.
The call ended.
By the time she reached the restaurant, the atmosphere had changed completely… everyone was tense.
The back door swung shut behind her, and she instantly noticed it—Sergio stood near the prep area, his skin paler than usual, jaw tight, shoulders rigid with tension.
“What’s going on?” she asked under her breath as she approached.
Before he could answer, it hit her.
The air thickened.
Pressure crashed down on her senses like a physical force, stealing the breath from her lungs. Every hair on her body stood on end. Her muscles locked, instincts screaming danger so loudly it nearly drowned out thought.
She had felt dominant auras before.
Alphas. Betas. Even a High Alpha once.
But this—
This was different.
Heavier.
Older.
Crushing.
Her knees almost buckled.
Confused, heart pounding wildly, she turned toward Sergio—and he leaned in, teeth clenched as he whispered, “Lycans. Our boss and guests arrived.”
Her blood ran cold.
“Now go,” he hissed. “Back. Stay out of sight.”
She didn’t need to be told twice.
Iva rushed toward the back, the pulse roaring in her ears, every instinct in her body shrieking. As she disappeared into the narrow corridor, one thought tore through her mind so violently it stole the air from her lungs.
I’m working for a restaurant owned by the Lycans?!
Avalon surged inside her, alarmed and coiled tight.
This is bad, her wolf whispered.
Iva’s heart slammed against her ribs as she pressed herself into the shadows, the oppressive presence of the Lycans radiating through the walls.
She had run from packs.
She had escaped an Alpha.
But Lycans?
This wasn’t just dangerous.
If you cross them in the wrong way, this could be deadly.
- Writer
