Shirley
The morning air in Ashridge was cooler than usual, but it did nothing to calm the heat simmering beneath my skin. My mind had been a blender of chaos since last night’s attack. Werewolves. Real, living, breathing werewolves. And somehow, I’d become the magnet that kept attracting them.
And then there was Asher… showing up at just the right time. Again.
Something about it didn’t sit right, but I was too mentally exhausted to overanalyze. I needed normalcy—something routine. So I did what I always did when things spiraled—I got dressed and went to work.
I should’ve known better than to hope for peace.
As soon as I stepped into Dante’s Bar, I stopped cold.
Both Dante and Asher were there. Waiting.
Dante leaned against the bar like a thundercloud in leather—arms crossed, biceps
