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The espresso machine screams like it's dying. Again.
I slam the portafilter against the knock box harder than I need to. Coffee grounds spray across the counter. My manager's gonna bitch about the mess, but I don't care. It's Tuesday morning at Brew & Go, which means the human world is in full panic mode—suits yelling into phones, college kids cramming for midterms, everyone needing their fix five minutes ago.
I like the chaos. Keeps me from thinking.
"Ivy, we got a line!" Jenna hisses from the register, her ponytail bouncing as she rings up another order. She's sweet. Human. Doesn't know I used to be someone before I became the girl who makes lattes for three-fifty an hour plus tips.
I grab the next cup. Grande iced vanilla. Extra ice. No foam. Because of course.
Three years. Three years since I left the pack. Since I stood in that ridiculous white dress and watched my Alpha—my fiancé—tell everyone I wasn't good enough. That I was cursed. That he wouldn't bind himself to something broken.
He wasn't wrong about the curse part.
I shove the memory down and focus on the milk frother. Steam hisses. My hand's shaking a little. I clench my jaw and steady it. I'm fine. I'm always fine.
"Next!" Jenna calls.
I don't look up. I'm elbow-deep in vanilla syrup when the air in the shop changes.
It's not a smell. Not exactly. It's pressure. Like the split second before lightning hits, when every hair on your body knows something's coming. My wolf—the one that's been locked down and silent for three years—stirs.
No.
I freeze, hand still on the syrup pump. My wolf doesn't get to wake up. I made sure of that. I went to a witch. Paid everything I had. Got my wolf sealed so deep I'd never shift again, never feel the pull of a pack, never hurt anyone else.
So why the hell is she moving?
"Um, Ivy?" Jenna's voice cracks a little. "Customer."
I force myself to turn around.
He's standing at the register. Tall. Too tall. The kind of tall that makes you step back without meaning to. Dark hair, sharp jaw, eyes so pale gray they look almost silver under the shop's shitty fluorescent lights. He's wearing a black coat that probably costs more than my rent, and he's staring at me like I just appeared out of nowhere.
No. Not at me.
Into me.
"What can I get you?" Jenna's trying to smile, but her voice is tight. She feels it too. Humans always do, even if they don't know what they're feeling. Predator in the room. Apex at the top of the food chain.
He doesn't answer her. His eyes stay locked on mine.
"Ivy," he says.
My stomach drops.
I don't know him. I've never seen this man in my life. But he said my name like he owns it. Like he's been looking for me.
"Do I know you?" I keep my voice flat. Bored. I'm good at bored.
His mouth curves. Not a smile. Something colder. "You will."
Jenna glances at me, confused. I paste on my customer-service face and step up to the register. "We have a line. If you're not ordering, you need to move."
"I am ordering." He leans against the counter. Casual. Except nothing about him is casual. "Black coffee. And five minutes of your time."
"Coffee I can do. Time costs extra."
His eyes narrow. For a second I think he's going to push it. Then he slides a twenty across the counter. "Keep the change."
Jenna takes the bill like it might bite her. I grab a cup and turn back to the machine, but my hands won't stop shaking now. My wolf is awake. Not just stirring—awake. Clawing at the inside of my ribs like she's trying to claw her way out.
What the hell did that witch do to me?
I pour the coffee. Black. No sugar. I can feel him watching me the whole time. When I turn around, he's closer than he should be. Right at the edge of the handoff counter.
"Here." I shove the cup toward him.
He takes it, but he doesn't drink. Doesn't even look at it. "You've been hiding."
"I've been working."
"In the human world. Suppressing your wolf." His voice drops. It's not loud, but I feel it in my chest. "You can't keep running, Ivy."
"I'm not running. I'm standing right here making your coffee." I cross my arms. My pulse is hammering. "And I don't know what you think you know about me, but you're wrong. I'm human. I work at a coffee shop. That's it."
"You're lying."
"You're delusional."
His jaw tightens. He sets the cup down and reaches for me—not fast, not threatening, just reaching like he has every right to touch me—and my wolf explodes.
Pain rips through my chest. I gasp and stumble back, knocking into the espresso machine. The world tilts. My vision goes white, then red, then black at the edges. I can hear Jenna yelling, asking if I'm okay, but her voice sounds like it's coming from underwater.
My wolf is screaming.
Not howling. Screaming. Like she's being ripped apart.
And then I feel it. The curse. The one my ex-Alpha carved into me the day he left me at the altar. The one the witch said she couldn't break, only bury.
It's awake too.
"Ivy—" The stranger's voice is sharper now. Worried. He reaches for me again.
"Don't." I shove his hand away, and the second my skin touches his, everything stops.
The pain. The noise. My wolf. All of it goes silent.
We both freeze.
He's staring at his wrist. I'm staring at it too. Because there, crawling up from where I touched him, are thin black lines. Like veins. Like ink spreading under his skin.
The curse.
"What—" He looks at me, and for the first time since he walked in, he looks shaken. "What did you do?"
"I didn't do anything." My voice is shaking. I back up until I hit the counter. "You need to leave."
"Ivy—"
"I said leave." I meet his eyes, and I let him see it. The thing I've been hiding for three years. The reason I ran. "One more step and you die."
He doesn't move. The black veins are still spreading, slower now, but crawling toward his elbow. He looks at them. Then at me. And then he smiles.
It's not a nice smile.
"You're my mate," he says.
The shop goes dead quiet. Jenna's staring. Two customers by the door have their phones out. And I'm standing there, shaking, with my wolf clawing at the seal inside me and a stranger's blood turning black because I touched him.
"No," I whisper. "I'm not anyone's mate. Not anymore."
"Then why's the bond trying to kill me?" He tilts his head, and his voice goes soft. Dangerous. "And why can't I walk away?"
I don't have an answer.
But my wolf does. She's laughing. Howling. Singing like she's finally found something she's been looking for.
And the black veins on his wrist? They're not fading.
They're spelling out a name.