Chapter3 What a pleasant surprise to find you here

Silver's POV

A woman at the front desk looked up as I approached, her smile professional but cold. "Can I help you?"

"I saw the sign outside," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "About the dishwasher position?"

Her eyes traveled over me—the cheap dress, my bare arms, the nervous way I twisted my fingers together. "Do you have any experience?"

"Yes. I've been washing dishes for years."

"References?"

I shook my head.

"Resume?"

"No, but I'm a hard worker. I can start right away, and I don't need much—"

"We require all applicants to fill out a formal application." She pulled out a thick packet of papers. "You can complete it here and return it within three business days."

I stared at the forms, my stomach sinking. The words blurred together—some I recognized, most I didn't. "I... could I just speak with the manager? Maybe show them what I can do?"

"That's not how we do things here." Her tone suggested the conversation was over. "If you can't complete the application, I'm afraid we can't consider you for the position."

I stood there for a moment, clutching the papers I couldn't read, then turned and walked back toward the door.

"Wait."

A man's voice stopped me. I turned to see a middle-aged man in a crisp shirt and tie approaching, his eyes lighting up as he took me in. "You here for a meal?"

I shook my head quickly. "No, I'm here about the dishwasher position."

His eyebrows shot up. "Dishwasher?" He looked me over again. "That's a waste. We actually need servers right now. You'd be much better suited for that."

Hope flickered in my chest. "But I can't... I'm not good at spelling. I can't fill out these forms."

He snatched the papers from my hands with a sharp movement, then whirled on the receptionist. "What the hell is wrong with you? Can't you use some common sense? Look at her—we'd be idiots to turn her away over paperwork."

The woman's face flushed, but she said nothing.

He turned back to me, his expression shifting to a warm smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "With your... attributes, we can skip the formalities. Can you start today?"

Something about the way he said "attributes" made my skin crawl, but I needed this job. I nodded quickly. "Yes. Thank you."

"Excellent." His smile widened. "Follow me. I'll show you the ropes."

The work was exhausting—my feet ached despite Rhydian's comfortable shoes, and my arms burned from carrying heavy trays. But I picked things up quickly. I'd always been a fast learner when someone actually bothered to teach me.

The problem wasn't the work.

It was the manager.

His hand would brush my lower back when he passed behind me, lingering just a second too long. He'd lean in too close when explaining something, his breath hot on my neck.

Once, when I was reaching for plates on a high shelf, I felt his fingers graze my waist.

"Just helping you balance," he'd said with that same smile.

I wanted to shove him away, wanted to tell him to keep his hands to himself. But I needed this job. I needed the money.

So I smiled tightly and moved away whenever I could.

The other servers weren't much better. They watched me with cold eyes, whispering to each other when they thought I wasn't looking. No one offered to help when I struggled with the register. No one warned me which customers were difficult.

During my break, I overheard two of them talking in the back hallway.

"Did you see the way Marcus looks at her? Disgusting."

"She's probably sleeping with him already. That's the only reason he hired her."

"I give it a week before she's fired. Or before she quits because she can't handle actual work."

My hands clenched around the water bottle I was holding, but I said nothing. Just ducked my head and walked past them like I hadn't heard.

By the end of my shift, I was exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with physical labor. Marcus handed me my cash with another too-long touch of his fingers against my palm.

"You did great today. I knew you would. Same time tomorrow?"

I nodded, shoving the bills into my pocket and practically running for the door.

---

Three days passed in a blur of early mornings, aching muscles, and constant fear.

I found a women's shelter that let me shower and sleep for a few dollars a night, bought a secondhand backpack and some cheap clothes from a thrift store. It wasn't much, but it was mine. I'd earned it.

But the nights were getting harder.

On the second night, I'd caught a scent while walking back to the shelter—something wild and familiar that made every instinct scream run.

I'd ducked into an alley, pressing against the wall, heart hammering. Two men passed by the entrance, their movements too fluid, too predatory to be human.

Blackwood Ridge wolves. I'd known it instantly.

They were searching for me.

I'd waited in that alley for over an hour, shaking, before I dared to move again.

The third night was worse. I'd spotted a figure across the street—tall, broad-shouldered, moving with that distinctive prowl. The streetlight caught his face for just a moment, and my blood turned to ice.

The hunting party Slade would send.

My legs froze, and suddenly I was fifteen again, running through the woods behind Blackwood Ridge.

Slade had caught me almost at the highway, his face cold with rage as he'd locked me in the storage shed for seven days during the coldest part of winter. I'd nearly died before Nessa convinced him to let me out.

I'd run that night, taking random turns until my lungs burned, ending up in a 24-hour laundromat where I'd jerked awake at every sound.

By the fourth day, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin.

But I kept working. Kept moving. Because stopping meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering that Slade's mark still burned against my neck, a beacon that would eventually lead them right to me.

I was rushing between tables during the lunch rush, forcing myself to stay focused despite the exhaustion weighing down every movement, when the bell chimed. I glanced up automatically and froze.

Rhydian stood in the doorway with Callum at his side, both looking utterly out of place in their tailored suits. Were they here for a meal?

My heart did a stupid little flip, and I found myself taking a step toward them before I could think better of it. For the first time in days, the knot of fear in my chest loosened slightly.

Something about seeing him made me feel safer, though I couldn't explain why. Maybe it was because he'd helped me before, pulled me out of danger without asking for anything in return.

A hand caught my elbow. One of the other servers—a sharp-faced woman named Jessica—pulled me back. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I... I know him. I was just going to say hello."

She laughed, the sound cutting. "Know him? Honey, you don't know men like that. What, you think you're Cinderella, and he's your prince?"

Heat flooded my cheeks. "I just—"

"Do you even know who he is?" Another server joined in. "That's Rhydian Vaughn. Old money. His family could buy a country if they wanted to."

I knew he was wealthy and powerful, but I hadn't realized the extent.

"I heard he's a wolf," Jessica continued, eyeing Rhydian as he and Callum were led toward a private room. Her gaze swung back to me, sharp. "You know what? You've got that same vibe. Are you a wolf too?"

My breath caught. Nessa's warning echoed—plenty of humans still harbored deep prejudice against wolves.

I shook my head quickly.

"Didn't think so." Jessica's lip curled. "You're too weak to be a wolf anyway. Look at you—you can barely handle a full shift."

I watched Rhydian and Callum disappear into the VIP room, something sinking in my chest. The brief sense of safety I'd felt evaporated, replaced by the familiar weight of isolation.

"Stop staring," Jessica hissed. "It's pathetic. Men like that don't end up with girls like us, no matter how pretty your hair is."

But then the door to the VIP room opened, and Callum stepped out. His eyes scanned the dining area before landing on me, and he walked straight toward us.

Jessica's mouth fell open. "Wait, you actually—"

"What a pleasant surprise to find you here." Callum's professional smile was warm. "Mr. Vaughn would like to invite you to join him, if you have a moment to catch up."

I glanced toward the private room, then back at Callum. "I'm working. I can't just—"

"Is there a problem?" Marcus appeared, his voice oozing false concern.

Callum's posture shifted subtly. "Mr. Vaughn was hoping this young lady could provide wine service in his private room."

Marcus's eyes lit up with greed. "Of course! Jessica, cover her section."

"But I—" Jessica started.

"Now," Marcus snapped, his tone brooking no argument.

I untied my apron with trembling fingers, very aware of Jessica's glare burning into my back as I followed Callum toward the private room.