Chapter 1

Lyra POV

“You’re not from here, are you?” I winced as the words left my mouth, but what else was I supposed to say?

The diner was dingy and old, just like the forgotten highway outside. The parking lot was losing its battle to nature. Weeds broke through crevices of the parking lot, which was turning to gravel with each passing week. A root had shot up through one of the limited parking spaces, so only cars with high ground clearance could park there. More tangible evidence that this small town in rural Colorado was also slowly being reclaimed by Mother Nature.

I knew everyone who came into my diner. Everyone. Not only because the handful of regulars and their tips were my only income, but because I had to be vigilant. I had to watch for others like me.

But while this rumpled, stale-smelling man certainly wasn’t what, or who, I was worried about, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else to say.

His tired gaze lifted from his coffee as he shook his head and mumbled something about a road trip and California.

I sighed, missing the Golden State myself. The woods and the coasts specifically, and not the people I left behind. I wouldn’t think about him. Not here.

At least that’s what I told myself nearly a hundred times a day. Possibly more.

“Lyra, order up!” The cook, Louie, slammed a plate of greasy breakfast food onto the metal window separating the kitchen from the main dining area. If you can even call this hole-in-the-wall that.

Shooting the dull traveler an apologetic look, I hustled back to the kitchen, balancing the heavy tray of platters like I’d been doing it my whole life instead of months.

Louie wiped his hands on his apron. “I’ll never understand how a tiny thing like you can heft all of that so easily.”

I shot him a wry grin. I wasn’t about to tell him my secret either. “I’ll never understand how you can cook all day and be as skinny as a rail!”

Louie howled with laughter, even though I made the same joke at least once a week. The banter was safe though. It was familiar. Personally, I loved the laid-back atmosphere and his willingness to pay me under the table.

Not having a bank account made hiding and moving a lot easier.

“Two eggs, extra bacon, and a Jimmy Dean omelet.” I handed the ticket with the customer’s order over before picking up the hot plate to distribute to table 2.

“Anything else?” I gave Mr. Foster—one of my regulars—my award-winning smile. His tips were shit, but he was the nicest old man.

“No, thank you.” He picked up his fork to dive into the four sausage patties, buttered toast, five pieces of bacon, and extra cheesy eggs.

If he wasn’t careful, his daily meal was going to take him to an early grave. But it wasn’t my business, and I wouldn't be here much longer anyway. I had to keep moving or my past was bound to catch up to me.

The phone rang, and a pad of paper and pen were already in my hands by the time I picked up.

“Otto’s Place, what can I do for ya?” I said. Otto was long gone, having left the restaurant to his son, Louie.

“Oh! Lyra! Is there any way you can cover my shift for me tonight?” Molly, one of the two other waitresses, begged me from the other line. Her nasally voice grated against my ear, and I pulled the receiver away slightly due to my sensitive hearing.

“Uh,” I hesitated.

It was nearly the full moon and my body vibrated with the need for release. I knew I wasn’t getting a certain form of release because of the lack of eligible men, so my desperation for a run was at an all-time high.

“Carter has a fever, and Chad isn’t picking up, the piece of shit. I’ll owe you one!” She pulled at all my sympathy cards: sick kid and shitty boyfriend.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, sighing into the phone.

“You’re the absolute best! Thank you so much!”

The line went dead before I got a chance to respond.

Circling around the counter, I stopped by different tables to see if the customers needed anything. The restaurant wasn’t huge, so only two servers worked here in a single shift. There were six booths, four tables, and a long countertop with eight built-in chairs.

The place cleared as breakfast winded down before the lunch rush. In between, I refilled sugars and ketchups, wrapped cutlery, swept the floors and mopped underneath where an over enthusiastic toddler had had his breakfast. By the time dinner rolled around, my skin itched from the inside out.

I stared at the rising moon longingly, counting down the minutes until my wolf could run. The moonlight bled between the expanse of trees lining the highway. The restaurant was a pit stop on the outskirts of a tiny town and surrounded by state land, which is exactly why I chose it. Running in the woods was always at the tip of my fingers. No, it wasn’t living free, which is what I truly dreamed of, but it was close enough.

“It’s okay, girl. Soon,” I whispered to myself. My focus shifted back to rolling silverware. It was a slow night, with only two customers total, which made this last-minute double shift that much more excruciating.

“What’d you say, darling?” Louie leaned his arms on the metal window with no plates in the way.

“Nothing.” I gave him a small smile, placing a fork on top of a knife.

“Go ahead and get outta here,” Louie grumbled. “It’s a quiet night. I can handle any customers who come in.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. This wasn’t a usual offer from him. “Misery loves company” is what he always said while laughing his way back into the kitchen.

“Are you sure?” I asked, trying not to let my hopes rise like the moon outside.

“You look so wound up, so I’m pretty sure any customers we do get you’ll scare away,” he said.