Chapter 3

　　Lyanna

   It was another hectic night, and I'd stepped in to help behind the bar since our usual two bartenders were struggling to keep up. It was actually good for me. It kept me sharp when it came to cocktails and wine, and owning a bar without staying informed wasn't exactly ideal.

　　I was passing a couple of college guys their beers when Mira nudged me and tipped her chin toward the entrance. "We've got a group of shifters coming in."

　　I looked up and spotted the men she meant. You could always tell shifters apart from humans. There was just…something about them. I couldn't quite put it into words, but it was obvious. I wasn't like some people who had an issue with them. I'd never had any problems with shifters, and they were always welcome in my bar. All they ever wanted was good food and decent drinks, both things I was happy to provide.

　　I nodded. "Yeah, I see them."

　　The guys, about six of them, made their way through the bar toward an empty table near the jukebox. One of them glanced my way and caught my eye. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. His expression shifted when he saw me, and then he veered off toward the bar instead. I'd owned the place long enough to be very familiar with that look. I'd been hit on more times than I could count.

　　He stepped up to the bar and gave me a nod. "Hey. Can I get a beer?"

　　At least he didn't start with a cheesy line. I nodded back. "Sure. What kind?"

　　He shrugged and flashed an easy grin. "Whatever you recommend. You're the expert."

　　"Fair enough," I said, turning toward the taps. When I opened the bar, I'd made sure to stock a wide and interesting range of beers, nearly two dozen choices. I went straight for my personal favorite, a microbrew made by a couple of friends from a few towns over. It had a hint of orange and wasn't overly hoppy. I slid the glass across the bar but stopped it just short of his hand. "I'll need to see your ID."

　　He smiled wider. "Yeah, sorry." He pulled it out and handed it to me. I checked the birthdate, even though he was clearly over twenty-one, then gave it back and pushed the beer the rest of the way toward him.

　　He grabbed it and took a sip, then frowned slightly as he studied the glass. "That's really good. Nice pick."

　　It wasn't easy to ignore his charm. He was good-looking and had a great smile, but I knew how these situations usually played out. I simply nodded and took a few orders from the customers next to him. When I finished and turned back, he motioned me over again.

　　"Another one?" I asked.

　　He shook his head. "How long have you lived around here?"

　　"Sorry, big guy, no personal details," I said. "I can help you with drinks, and maybe some hot wings from the kitchen if you're interested in those."

　　He glanced back across the room at his friends, all of whom were watching us. Most of their attention was on me. I briefly wondered if he'd made some kind of bet with them about getting my number. Turning back to me, he nodded at his empty glass. "Alright, house rules. I get it. I'll take another."

　　I poured him a fresh beer, and he returned to the table with his group. When I looked over again, they seemed deep in conversation. A few of them looked annoyed. I assumed it was just some guy disagreement. As long as it didn't turn into yelling or throwing punches, they were free to argue all they wanted.

　　The same guy came back to the bar several more times throughout the night. Every interaction stayed strictly professional. A pitcher of beer for his friends, then a large order of fried chicken sliders from the kitchen. Normal stuff, except that he only wanted to deal with me. If I was busy, he'd wait an extra ten minutes rather than let someone else take his order. He completely ignored Mira, even when she tried to help him and it was very obvious that she wanted more than just to pour him a drink.

　　Near the end of the night, he came up to close out his tab. I took his card, and as I rang it up, the question I'd been expecting all night finally came. "Alright, I'll stop bothering you if you just tell me your name." He lifted a finger. "And before you say anything, a name isn't personal information. It's not private or secret. You can at least tell me your name."

　　I laughed softly and rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine." I held out my hand. "Lyanna Bloodmoon".

　　He shook my hand, flashing that same gorgeous smile. "Good to know."

　　Without another word, he turned and walked back toward his friends, who were already gathering near the door.

　　"Hey, don't I get your name?" I called after him.

　　He glanced back over his shoulder as he headed out. "Next time."

　　I watched them leave, thinking it was one of the strangest interactions I'd ever had. Usually, brushing off a guy led to one of two outcomes. Either they got offended and turned into sulky little incels, or they refused to take no for an answer and kept pushing until I had to get harsh.

　　This was different, and honestly, refreshing. Maybe, just maybe, if he came back again, I'd consider giving him my number. If he asked for it.

　　The bar gradually emptied out, and I didn't even need to announce the last call. The final customers were gone before two. The bartenders cleaned most of the place, and they, along with the kitchen staff, were out by three, leaving just Mira and me. I still needed to mop the bathrooms and restock paper towels, soap, and toilet paper, maybe a twenty-minute job at most.

　　"Hey, Mira? You can head home. I've got this," I said.

　　She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "You sure? I can stay and help."

　　"It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

　　"Oh my God, thank you. I'm exhausted. I'll call you in the afternoon for breakfast."

　　"You mean lunch?"

　　Mira lifted a shoulder as she headed out. "Call it whatever you want. Anything I eat after dragging myself out of bed counts as breakfast, even if it's at two in the afternoon."

　　I laughed and waved goodbye as she left. The rest of the closing tasks went by fast. It was actually nice having the place to myself, letting my mind drift and unwind. The only thing left was to empty the beer glass washer beneath the bar. I could deal with polishing away the water spots the next day.

　　While I was bent over removing the glasses, I heard the front door open. Damn it! I hadn't locked it after Mira left.

　　"We're closed!" I called out, still focused on the glasses.

　　I heard several pairs of boots thudding across the wooden floor. I let out an irritated breath through my teeth. Standing up, I shouted, "I said we're"

　　My words died when I saw who had come in. It was the guy from earlier. The shifter. And he'd brought all his friends with him. Fear twisted tightly in my stomach when I took in their expressions. Every single one of them, including the guy I'd thought had been flirting with me, looked furious. Not just angry, but murderously so. The worst part was that all of them were staring straight at me, like I was the reason for it.

　　I cleared my throat, forcing myself not to show how terrified I was. "Sorry, guys. We closed over an hour ago. If you want service, you'll need to come back tomorrow night."

　　Ignoring me completely, the man I'd spoken with earlier strode up to the bar and slammed his hands down on it. The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot. "You shouldn't even exist."

　　I stumbled back without thinking, stunned by the sheer hatred in his voice. He looked at me like I was something vile stuck to the bottom of his shoe. What the hell had happened in the last two hours? The easy smile and charm were gone, replaced by pure contempt curling his lip.

　　He glanced back at his group. "You smell that? Was I lying?"

　　The others shook their heads. One of them sniffed the air and let out a deep, guttural growl. Cold sweat trickled down my spine as my gaze darted between them. Not one face showed even a trace of mercy. A few had moved to either end of the bar, cutting off any possible escape. My breathing turned sharp and frantic. What were they going to do? Rob me? Kill me? Something worse? A flood of horrifying possibilities raced through my mind.

　　The shifter leaned forward, getting as close as the bar allowed. "Your bloodline should've been erased completely. Every last one of them was meant to be dead. Looks like some of that corrupted blood slipped through."

　　I backed into the liquor shelf behind me. A tequila bottle and a pint of whiskey toppled off, smashing on the floor. The sharp stench of alcohol burned my nose. What was he even talking about?

　　"I don't understand," I said, my voice low and barely audible.

　　He shook his head and spat on the floor. "Doesn't matter. You won't be alive much longer. Go."

　　At that word, his men moved. They were so fast I could hardly process it, blurred motion, snarls and screams, the furious gleam of red eyes. The last thing I felt was a white-hot pain tearing into my sides, followed by a crushing blow to the back of my head. Then everything went black.