Chapter 1

Scarlett's POV

The door bell chimed as another customer waltzed in yelling his order as he settled into an empty table.

Fiona was on it immediately, maneuvering around me as I wiped down the counter with one hand, the other sliding a beer towards a snarling shifter who'd been complaining about the poor service since he walked in.

That was five minutes ago.

“Here's your beer, Randy. Hopefully it does something about that shitty attitude.”  I said stalking off before he could retort.

I grabbed a tray and new paper towels, eyeing the group gathered at the center table raving, obnoxiously about some game as I walked by. I hadn't even settled into cleaning the empty table when two of them started to shove each other, nearly tumbling their table of glass and rum.

“Easy fellas,” I stepped in gesturing towards their table, “You break it, you buy it. You bleed on it, you clean it.”

A few laughs rippled down the bar, but I wasn't joking. I had too much riding on every little penny I made out of here to lose it to a bunch of Others with too much alcohol and not enough common sense.

I resumed down the counter collecting empty glasses for washing and preparing drinks for the next customer when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it, feigning focus on the cheap glassware I was cleaning until the buzzing stopped, my shoulder visibly loosening.

My eyes met Randy’s across the counter as the buzzing started again, a dull vibration against the sink where my thigh pressed against it.

He lowered his glass slowly and my brows knitted in anticipated annoyance, because I knew that he was about to say something stupid. 

“Your ringtone sucks.”

“Fuck off, Randy.”

I sighed, my mood plummeting to hell when I saw the name dancing across the screen.

K

I swiped right, ducking into a relatively secluded corner of the pub and brought the phone to my ear.

“Hey Mr. Kazowski.” I sang painfully.

“Where my rent?” He barked angrily, voice booming through the speakers. “You say you pay rent on 15th. Today 15th.”

“I know Mr. Kazowski.” I said pressing a finger against my other ear to block our the noise. “I swear, I have your money. I'm just running a little late at the pub–”

“Excuse. Everytime excuse.” He cut in. “You better have money or else–”

“You'll kick my ass to the curb, I know. You'll get it first thing tomorrow morning, I swear.”

“No! You say 15th. I want money 15th.”

I sighed, “Alright. You'll get your money–”

The line went dead, a small click where the short man's voice should've been.

I sucked in a deep breath, standing there with my phone still pressed to me ears when I decided:

“I need a smoke.”

Outside the night air was clearer, free of booze, and sweat, and fried fish sticks that clung to the atmosphere of the pub inside. The noise inside was dulled by the hum of distant traffic and rustling trees.

I leaned with my shoulder against the brick wall of the pub, cupping a hand over the flame of the lighter as I lit the cigarette between my lips. It caught the flame, flickering at first, then burning. The dry smoke hit the back of my throat, making me cough.

In my head, I calculated the amount of cash I'd made for the day, from the pub and all the other part times. After rent and power, there should still be enough left to pay the interest on debts.

I blew out a ring of smoke.

Interests that weren't even fucking mine.

I rolled against the wall, so that my whole back was on it when I noticed I group of panther shifters at the edge of the lot. They were watching me, I knew because they weren't even trying to be subtle.

They hadn't crossed the boundary of the lot yet, but they were close enough that it made my skin prickle, unease settling beneath it.

I saw the deliberation leave their shoulders, just as they set off across the lot.

My fingers tightened around my cigarette. Great. Just what I needed.

I pushed off the wall, hollowing my cheeks against one final drag, but they'd cornered me before the smoke even left my lungs completely.

“Damn. Did you run?” I offered flatly.

They snickered like I had said the funniest shit, but I was more bothered by the way they continued into my orbit. They must've been six feet, or seven maybe? I don't know. Everything looked tall when you're just five feet five.

“You always smoke alone?” One of them asked. He had a scar across his lips.

I flicked ash from my cigarette and met his gaze without flinching. “You always all up in people's business?” 

I snuffed out the cigarette against the brick wall and tossed it in the trash can a few feet away, pushing past them.

They did not like that.

The one who hadn't spoken pulled me back by the shoulder, his thick fingers digging into pale flesh.

Fuck! That's gonna bruise.

“Is there a problem here?” A deep voice came suddenly, drifting through the darkness.

From just beyond the shadowy recess, a towering figure stood, his silhouette outlined by the cool moonlight. He was lean, but with muscles in all the right places, with dark hair and dark eyes and plush lips set in a deep scowl.