Who Was That Guy?

Steph POV

It was an ungodly hour of night, and I was speedwalking through the rough part of town like I was untouchable. 

Clutching my phone in my pocket, hood pulled over my head with strings tightened like I hoped to cut off circulation to my face, I hoped any lurking cop cars wouldn’t suspect me of involvement in some drug deal. Some wolves had been caught in this area of Bayern—nicknamed Wolfden because it was somehow always dark, cold, and smelled faintly of blood—trading substances that wolves and humans alike would kill for.

It was a small saving grace that Harlon never got addicted to wolfsbane or crack—just good ol’ fashioned alcohol.

Dawn wasn’t far off, but darkness leaked from every alley, hiding in blackedout windows of SUVs. The breeze wasn’t as refreshing as elsewhere, and honestly, I had no idea why I thought this was the best place to walk. Did I want to be mugged or some shit? Did I want to be asked by some tweaking guy begging for a light?

I counted myself lucky that I wasn’t a risk-seeker like Dad when he was young, before Mom straightened him out—purposefully seeking danger as an outlet, a wolf’s favorite pastime. I didn’t crave blood to relieve stress.

Nope. I just walked.

And didn’t pay attention to where I was walking, nor did I hear.

Someone shoulder-checked me so hard I stumbled off the sidewalk. I was damn lucky the street was empty. Getting hit with a car wasn’t on my bingo card—just like the scent that hit my nose.

But it didn’t just hit. It wreathed around me, masking the reek of Wolfden for a brief moment, easing the pounding headache in my skull.

I registered laughter first—cruel, mocking barks.

“Watch the druggie, Ty,” a male sneered. “Poor thing doesn’t need another bruise.”

I scrambled to pull my hoodie up, and my bangs were still fully covering my forehead. I didn’t dare look up, even if I felt the urge to put a sight to the smell that made my neck prickle.

“Watch where you’re going, omega.”

The hasty pace I’d set past them screeched to a halt at the deep, warning voice. It sounded like it came from within his chest, an Alpha voice in the making.

I jerked my head up and met his gaze as if magnetized.

He was every hormonal teenager’s dream boy. Touseled brown hair, effortlessly messy, dampened at the tips from sweat—his fair-skinned face glistened with it, as if he and his groupies just came back from a run.

And those eyes.

Intense, unreadable steel-blue, hard enough to cut.

And cut my pride he did.

He was the one who shoved me—and the one whose scent I wanted to curl up in.

“I-I’m not an omega,” I stammered, then wanted to kick myself for sounding like I was trying to give a school report at the front of class.

The boy—well, man, maybe a few years older than me—shrugged, looking down at me like I was gutter trash. “Doesn’t matter. Move along so we can keep having fun. Right, boys? We run this town!”

He turned to his buddies, mouth cracking into a wolfish grin, eyes alight with mischief. They turned away, howling with laughter at whatever crude jokes they were making.

Not a single one glanced back. Not a single one of them had a speck of chivalry.

Most male wolves didn’t, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

“What a dick,” I muttered, setting a miserable pace back home. “Damn, I’m so pathetic. Here I am, face blooming with a bruise from my own father, had a freaky dream, got shoved off a sidewalk, dissed by some frat wolves—and it’s only been, what, like, four hours?!”

I was lucky no one was around to hear my mumbling. I would really be mistaken for a druggie.

Tears choked my throat. “Pathtic little Rogue, Stephanie Channer. One day you’ll be more.”

*

Well, that day wasn’t today.

To literally save face from Harlon’s fist, I caved and left cash on the counter for his vices. One day, he’ll spend his paycheck on beneficial things. Today wasn’t that day, either.

I avoided him and the house by running errands and wasting time here or there around Bayern to pass the time before work.

There was one table left at the local coffee place. I slid into it just as a couple walked in. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel the need to burn my mouth on coffee—black, like my soul—so I just crossed my arms on the table and plopped my face there.

Then I decided self-pity wasn’t for me.

I changed my phone lock screen to an inspirational quote. I knocked back my coffee (iced caramel macchiato), then I marched out of there like my destiny was waiting on the cracked sidewalk outside.

And then I ended up at work, wearing the bunny outfit, hair done in high pigtails to get more tips.

“Hey, Steph!”

My heart did a happy little flip at the sound of my work bestie’s voice. Shiloh skipped into the kitchen where I was rolling silverware, bright-eyed with a soul that believed there was still good in the world.

An odd profession for her to pick up over the summer.

But she was human. She wouldn’t have even guessed the existence of wolf shifters. That was a hard secret to keep from her, but she was my only chance at “normal.”

She crushed me in a hug, even though she was almost a half foot shorter than me at five-foot-zero-inches. “Working hard or hardly working?” she teased.

I snorted, gesturing for her to join me on silverware duty. “What are you, fifty?”

Shiloh shrugged, unbothered as she rolled like her life was on the line. “I’ve decided to try a different greeting every night. So don’t judge, judgy-pants.”

“I’m not wearing pants.”

“Yeah, well, your ass looks good in a leotard.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I got you, homie.”

We conquered the shift together, even if it was still miserable. Men, drunk or sober, treated us like we were meant to be touched, there to cater to them in more ways than bringing them overcooked wings. I’d lost count of how many times my ass had been groped.

The manager who should have been in charge of protecting his workers? Couldn’t give a shit. He just paraded around, joking with the clientele, which was bullshit for a bar, and collecting a salary paycheck.

“Excuse me, miss.”

I turned with a perfect customer service smile to the table behind me—an older couple looking disgruntled with their half-eaten french onion soup. “What can I help with?”

“We’ve been waiting forty minutes for our entrees. You don’t look that busy.” The old man gestured flippantly to the rest of the place, which obviously was busy, the servers rushing around like ants. “Tell the kitchen that.”

I knew for a fact it hadn’t been that long. “Yes, sir, of course,” I said sweetly. “I’ll check in right now.”

I was tempted not to go in the kitchen at all, but I wasn’t that terrible of a person. Shiloh caught me on the way back out.

“Stephie!” she called. “Help me clear a big table out on the patio?”

“Sure, babe.”

The paito was huge, and I had to admit, very pretty. String lights were draped across the length; a stone fireplace blazed in front of a half circle of wine barrel chairs; plenty of circular hightop tables; music played somewhere, but the volume of the TVs playing sports was far louder.

But the prettiest feature was the central fountain, a shallow round pool with a waterfall spilling over fake stone. Even if it was out of place with the inside of the Howlers, I loved the sound of it.

If only the manager cared about his workers as much as he cared about his patio.

I didn’t expect to see the group of males clustered together right between the pool and the table that needed cleared.

My body flooded with adrenaline. My hands started to tremble. 

The wolf inside me stirred, like waking from a slumber. She wanted to stay—wanted me to go to that table just to get close to the male bragging about how easily women fell for him. 

As if to prove that, one of the servers caught his eye and giggled shyly when he grinned like a movie star.

No way, I’m not going over there.

I turned to run like the bunny I was dressed as—and bumped right into Shiloh.

“Hey,” she said, immediately worried, catching me. “You okay? Ignore those jerks. We gotta get this table. A five-top is waiting inside.”

“O-okay,” I breathed, letting her push me forward.

“Tyler,” one of the guys said, jerking his head toward me subtlely, so low only a wolf’s hearing could catch. “What about her? She’s kinda pretty. Too much makeup, though.”

Tyler.

“Challenge accepted. Watch this.”

Shiloh left me like a deer in headlights as Tyler swaggered over. He clearly didn’t remember me.

But I remembered him.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he purred as he approached, “how you doin’?”

I took a few stumbling steps back, my heart pounding. I didn’t know why I was freaking out, but I was—and my wolf wasn’t. She wanted to get closer.

“No,” I whispered aloud, taking another step back.

“Steph! Look out!”

Shiloh’s warning came too late.

My heels hit the fountain’s stone edge—

—and the world went cold and blue.