Chapter 3 The Silver Coin

Eliana Pov

The bell above the shop door jangled as Gideon walked out into the cool morning air. I stood frozen behind the counter, staring at the heavy leather pouch he had left sitting next to my jar of dried mint.

Outside, the town of Frostfell was beginning to wake up. Wagon wheels dragged along the damp street, and the distant smell of woodsmoke filled the air.

I picked up the pouch. It was heavy, pulling my wrist down with its weight. Unstringing the leather cord, I tipped it over. A thick stack of bright silver coins spilled onto the wood, glinting in the morning light.

“Crazy man,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head.

There was enough money here to buy my tea shop twice over. No one paid this much for a simple brew of moonflower and honey, no matter how badly their head hurt. But I knew why he did it. To an Alpha, a feared leader who had spent five years trapped in his own head.. one night of peace was worth more than a chest of gold.

I scooped the coins back into the bag, tied it tight, and hid it under the counter next to my kettle. I didn’t want that kind of money sitting out in the open. Money like that brought trouble, and I had left trouble behind in the Bloodmoon Pack.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my broom to clean up the spilled mint from last night.

As I swept, my mind kept drifting back to the sharp look in his pale eyes before he left. I will be back, Eliana.

He wasn’t asking for permission. He was making a promise.

By noon, the rain clouds had cleared, leaving a crisp blue sky over the mountains. I opened the front door to let the fresh air in, trying to sweep away the last lingering dampness from the storm.

A little while later, the bell above the door chimed softly.

Old Mrs. Gable walked in, wrapping her knitted green shawl tight around her shoulders. She was one of my sweet regular customers who lived down the street.

“Good afternoon, Eliana dear,” she said with a warm smile, setting a small woven basket on the counter. “What a terrible storm we had last night! My roof made so much noise that I barely slept a wink.”

“It was very loud,” I agreed, offering her a soft smile as I stepped behind the desk. “How are your knees holding up with all this damp cold?”

“Oh, dreadful,” she sighed, gently rubbing her joint. “I can always feel the rain coming in my bones before it even hits the glass. Do you have any of that willow bark blend left?”

“I always keep some ready for you,” I said softly. I reached for a glass jar on the middle shelf, scooped out a handful of dried willow bark and sweet mint, and wrapped it neatly in brown paper tied with string. “Boil a spoon of this in hot water every morning. It will take the edge off the pain.”

She handed me two small copper coins and took the paper package. “You’re a blessing to this town, child. I don’t know what we did before you opened up shop.”

“I’m just glad I can help,” I replied as she smiled, bade me goodbye, and stepped back out into the sunshine.

I put the coppers in my drawer, but every time the door bell chimed after that, my heart gave a hard thump against my ribs.

Around late afternoon, as the sun began to dip behind the snowy peaks, the front door swung open again.

It wasn’t Gideon.

Instead, two broad-shouldered men in dark leather coats stepped inside. They were tall, heavy-set, and smelled of cheap booze and wild pack magic. They didn’t look like locals from Frostfell. They looked like hunters.

The taller one had a deep scar across his lip. He stopped in the middle of the room, his eyes scanning my jars, my counter, and finally, the woven rug on the floor.

He leaned down, wiping a dark finger against the rug where Gideon’s blood had dried last night. He brought it to his nose and sniffed.

“He was here,” the scarred man said, his voice rough as gravel.

My stomach dropped into a tight knot. I clamped my hands onto the wooden counter to keep them from shaking.

“Can I help you find something?” I asked, keeping my voice flat and even. “I sell tea for coughs and quiet sleep.”

The two men looked up at me. The scarred one took two slow steps toward my counter, towering over the desk.

“We’re looking for a rogue,” he said, his silver wolf eyes locking onto mine. “A big black beast. He passed through the border last night, running from a fight. You see anyone like that, girl?”

“No,” I lied smoothly, staring him right in the face. “Just the rain and the wind. I locked my doors early.”

The scarred man stared at me for a long, quiet second, trying to smell the fear on my skin. He leaned in closer, his broad shadow blocking out the warm sunlight from the window.

“You’re lying,” he grunted, reaching out a large, heavy hand toward my arm. “Let’s see what else you’re hiding back there…”

Before his fingers could even touch my sleeve, the bell above the door chimed.

A shadow fell over the entrance as a huge frame stepped inside, completely blocking the daylight.

“Take your hand off her,” a voice growled from the doorway.

The temperature in the shop instantly plunged. It was Gideon.

He wasn’t in his wolf form, but the raw, crushing power radiating off him made the air feel thick and hard to breathe. He stood tall in the doorway, his sharp jaw set, his pale silver eyes glowing with a cold, lethal heat.

The two hunters froze, turning around slowly. The moment they recognized his face, their eyes widened in pure terror.

“Alpha Gideon,” the scarred man gasped, taking a step back until his back hit my wooden shelf, rattling the glass jars.

Gideon didn’t shout. He didn’t rush in. He just walked toward them with slow, measured steps, his eyes fixed on the man who had tried to touch me.

“You’re in the wrong town,” Gideon said softly, his voice dangerously calm. “And you’re standing in the wrong shop.”