Chapter 5

Ronan's POV

I stepped out of her tiny shop and dipped my hands in my pockets, looking up at the sky. The sun was about to set, and I hadn't made any significant move with her.

I didn't like this. It was taking my time and putting my pack’s life, and the life of our entire world, into the hands of a woman who didn’t even know she was of werewolf ancestry.

I did my research on her, and she was as normal as a troubled child could get. She grew up in the foster care system, aged out, and became a tattoo artist.

There were no signs indicating she had, or knew about, her werewolf side, but I had hoped maybe grilling her would give me some form of clue or something.

What were the Keepers of the Key thinking? Why would they put the key into the hands of that woman?

I sighed and took a step into the street when my eyes caught the man from earlier. I had noticed him passing the parlor and staring into it but had dismissed him.

He was sitting now outside at a café, on a seat facing her parlor, staring at her through the paper he was holding.

To everyone else, he looked like a normal gent just reading the paper, but I knew he was watching her.

Stalking her.

He wasn’t a werewolf or any creature I could detect. He seemed pretty human.

He was probably an admirer, stalking her.

I decided to let it be. It was none of my business. He didn’t seem to have any intentions to hurt her, he just wanted to watch.

I willed myself to walk away but found myself heading toward the man instead.

“Damn it,” I cursed under my breath as I slid into the seat in front of the stranger, causing him to drop his paper and look at me.

I flashed him a business smile.

“Can I help you?” he asked, and I smiled as I waved to the waiter who was serving another table.

The waiter finished up and walked over to me.

“I’ll have an espresso. Hold the cream and sugar,” I said, and he nodded, walking into the café.

The man was still looking at me.

“Hey, mister, there are other empty seats. Go get your own fucking seat,” the man snapped, and I smiled.

“I don’t know about that. I like this seat,” I said, stretching and leaning back to emphasize just how comfortable I was.

“I don’t give a fuck. I sat here first,” he fumed, turning red.

“Hmm. What’s so great about this seat?” I asked as the waiter brought my order.

“None of your business. Get the fuck out, or I’ll have them throw you out. I’m a regular here,” he threatened with a frown.

“Regular? How great. How long have you been coming here?” I asked, and he looked even angrier.

“None of your fucking business. Get out of my seat!” he raised his voice, and the table close to us turned to look.

Great. This was what I wanted.

“Do you always take this seat when you come here?” I asked as I stood up, dragging my seat and placing it right beside him.

“Yes, I do. This is my permanent seat… What the fuck are you doing?” he shouted angrily, and more people turned to look. I smiled.

More audience. Incredible.

I sat in the chair beside him, now directly facing Sienna’s parlor.

“You see, my girlfriend has been complaining about this creep that watches her from across the street every day for the past few weeks,” I said, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I was just making sure I was talking to the right guy,” I added, sipping my coffee.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

“In case you don’t know my girlfriend, she owns the tattoo parlor right across the street. You can see it clearly from here—seeing that you have the best view into it from this position. Don’t you think?” I said, even louder.

Some people gasped and looked across the street, noticing Sienna’s parlor.

The whispers began to spread.

“I... I... don’t... know what you’re talking about,” the man stammered, shaking like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I know it’s you, and the cameras have probably picked up your image,” I said, pointing to a camera across the street and another in front of the café.

“I mean, you said it yourself. You come here every day and you take this seat, didn’t you?” I asked, using his words against him.

He began to stutter, no words coming out.

“Now, I’ll go easy on you because I genuinely don’t have the patience to deal with this. But I’ll advise you to stay away from her and stop coming here,” I said, and he frowned at my request.

“You can’t ask me to stop coming here. This is my favorite coffee shop,” he protested.

Hmm. Balls.

I liked that.

I leaned in so I could whisper in his ear.

“Well, I’m not asking you. I’m telling you,” I said, gesturing to the waiter, who had been listening to the whole interaction.

I dug into my suit pocket and pulled out a few hundreds.

“I want this man permanently banned from your store—unless you want to be saddled with stalking with intent to traffic charges.” I handed him the bills, and he nodded, sticking them into his pocket.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you can’t be here,” he said.

I stood up, leaned down to whisper in the man’s ear one last time, pressing my hand on his shoulder and using enough force to almost crack his bone.

This time, whispering so only he could hear:

“I’ll have people watching you. If I so much as hear you breathe around her, I will make sure your body is never found. Am I understood?” I asked, and he nodded furiously.

“Great.” I smiled, stood up, and walked away from the café back to my car. The sound of the cafe patrons gossiping in the background.

That was fun.