Chapter 2

• I froze, my smile faltering as I met the gaze of my silver-haired customer. All my life, I had mastered the art of concealing my emotions, never letting my guard slip—especially not in front of men. I was always composed, indifferent to their words or appearances. But this man… he unsettled me. It was as though he could see straight through the walls I had meticulously built, and that thought alone terrified me.
• "I'll get your coffee," I said, forcing a semblance of calmness as I turned toward the counter. "Espresso? Black?" I tossed the question over my shoulder, hoping to mask my unease.
• "As long as you make it," he replied with a soft chuckle.
• A flicker of irritation rose in me at his flirtation, but it did little to stop the heat creeping into my cheeks. "What is wrong with me?" I muttered under my breath, flustered by my own reaction. Normally, I would have brushed off such comments without a second thought—perhaps even put the man in his place if I were having a bad day. But now? I was blushing like some infatuated fool.
• Keeping my back to him, I busied myself at the bar, determined not to meet his eyes. Yet, I couldn’t shake the sensation of his gaze fixed on me, as though he were studying every inch of my being. My hands trembled as I reached for a cup, nearly letting it slip through my fingers.
• "Pull yourself together, Thalassa," I muttered under my breath, steadying my grip. I glanced toward Naia, who was too preoccupied refilling Sylas and Rowan’s coffee to notice my clumsiness. When she finally caught my eye, she smirked and gave me a conspiratorial wink.
• “Go for it,” she whispered, her gaze darting toward the silver-haired man.
• Ignoring her, I focused on preparing the coffee. I moistened the paper filter, added the freshly ground coffee, and began brewing. The rich, dark liquid streamed into the cup, and once it was ready, I carried it to his table, careful not to look directly at him.
• "Your coffee, sir," I said, setting the cup down with practiced precision.
• "Do I offend you?" His voice was smooth, the kind that lingered like the last note of a melody.
• "N-not at all!" The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
• His lips curved into a faint smirk, his eyes locking onto mine with a penetrating intensity. My pulse quickened, and I instinctively stepped back, putting distance between us.
• "Thank you for the coffee… Thalassa," he said, his gaze dropping briefly to the name tag on my shirt.
• "Enjoy your coffee," I mumbled, retreating behind the counter as quickly as I could.
• Something about the way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. It felt… familiar, as if he’d known me long before this moment. Anxiety stirred within me.
• "Could he be one of them?" The thought struck me like a thunderclap. "No," I reassured myself. "He doesn’t smell like them. I’d know if he were."
• Still, I couldn’t shake the unease. I adjusted my gloves nervously, then busied myself clearing the counter.
• "Thalassa, Kael asked about you again," Rowan called out, his voice laced with amusement. "Why don’t you give the poor guy a chance?"
• "Let’s just say Kael isn’t my type," I replied with a smirk, tossing a stack of used napkins into the trash.
• Rowan chuckled and reached across the counter, grabbing my wrist.
• “Come on, Thalassa. If he’s not your type, maybe I am.” His grin widened, and his eyes raked over me in a way that made my skin crawl.
• "Let go, Rowan," I said, my voice sharp.
• "Don’t be like that," he coaxed, tightening his grip. "You should have some fun for once."
• "I said no!" With a sharp tug, I wrenched my hand free.
• Rowan leaned forward, attempting to grab me again, but lost his balance and slammed into the bar. Glasses and an empty coffee pot crashed to the floor, shattering on impact. I felt a sharp sting as a shard of glass sliced into my arm.
• “Thalassa!” Naia was at my side in an instant, grabbing my injured hand.
• “I’ll handle it,” I snapped, pulling away and reaching for the first aid kit.
• Naia hesitated, her expression a mixture of concern and hurt. “Fine,” she said, stepping back.
• As I hastily bandaged my wound, my mind raced. "Don’t let them smell my blood. Please, don’t let them smell my blood," I silently pleaded.
• It wasn’t until the commotion had settled that I remembered the silver-haired customer. Turning toward his table, I found it empty. He was gone.
• All that remained was a single hundred-dollar bill beside his barely-touched coffee.
• "Guess he didn’t like my coffee after all," I muttered, pocketing the money. "At least he’s generous."
• The rest of the night passed in a blur of sweeping glass and cleaning the mess Rowan had made. By the time we closed, the rain had finally stopped. Yet, as I locked the door, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
• Then, it happened.
• The howling—a sound I’d prayed never to hear again—echoed in the distance.
• They had found me.