The smell of coffee and something warm and spiced drifted into the room, gently tugging Xochi from sleep. She blinked against the morning light peeking through the curtains, the soft cotton sheets tangled around her legs. For a moment, she forgot where she was—until she sat up and remembered: the Townsend Pack, San Francisco, her uncle.
She slid out of bed and padded quietly across the cool floor. The apartment was still and peaceful, wrapped in the hush of early morning. When she stepped into the living room, she found Metztli already at the kitchen table, dressed for patrol in a dark long-sleeved shirt and jeans, a steaming mug in his hand.
"Morning, princesa," he said, watching her carefully. "Sleep alright?"
She nodded, pulling her sleeves over her hands as she settled across from h
