Omniscient’s POV
Isabelle stepped out of the cozy café, the paper bag in her hand warm against her palm. Inside was the rest of her breakfast—a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich with fried plantains on the side.
The sky was soft blue, and the streets still quiet for a Wednesday morning. As she walked toward her SUV, the soles of her heels clicked softly against the pavement.
Her fingers wrapped around the door handle, ready to climb in when she felt it.
A presence.
A shift in energy. A werewolf.
She turned, instinctually alert, and came face to face with a tall woman in a skintight black dress and a jacket draped over her shoulders. Her curls were dark and sharp around her face, and her eyes raked Isabelle from head to toe with bold scrutiny.
“Aurora Keating,” the woman said, foldin
