_Zarelle’s POV_
Mirelle’s hackles rose the instant I caught their scents, expensive perfume laced with underlying aggression. Celina sprang up from an armchair like a predator ready to pounce, her finger pointed at me.
Sitting beside her was Amara, whose shock radiated through her face so strongly that everyone could sense her displeasure. My senses picked up every nuance of their emotional states, anger, embarrassment, and something that smelled distinctly like desperation.
"How did you get in here?" Celina's voice came again, the tone of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question. She didn't wait for my reply, spinning toward the reception counter with outrage. "Where's your manager? I thought this place operates by appointment only for pack members. Why did you allow
