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Greed.
That was something I was all too familiar with. The compound had been full of greed, especially among the upper echelon of shifters. The people of Haven weren’t without their own flaws, but they were passionate about the town. They held a comradery that didn’t exist much where I’d grown up.
The wind whipped through the open bay window, the stench of sour milk overtaking my senses, causing my hand to shake as I set down the to-go coffee in front of the sheriff. He’d been in every day, wearing his hat and reading the newspaper. Whatever today’s pages held, he didn’t like it.
Fuck.
The scent had caught me off guard, dredging up memories of that night. The air had smelled of sour milk…and death. The cloying scent of iron and saltwater.
“You okay there, girl?” Sheriff Snow asked, his eyes drawing away from the paper to assess me. That was a loaded question. Was I okay? Far from it. Most nights, I woke up drenched in sweat, a scream lodged in my throat.
“Fine.” I shot him a thin smile. “Just got a chill.” The sheriff nodded, folding his paper in half before taking a sip of the hot coffee I’d set in front of him.
“Listen—” The sound of the shop’s bell interrupted him. My eyes flitted to the door, and I readied myself to greet the next round of customers.
I froze.
The stench of sour milk was overwhelming now, masking every other scent nearby. There were two of them, their faces set in professional apathy. They were dressed in crisp tailored black suits and polished shoes. Their heads turned toward where I stood, and I quickly turned my back to them, busying myself with pretending to clean the sheriff’s table.
Their gaze on me sent cold spikes of ice spiraling down my spine. One took a step forward, and my mind’s eye knew he would head straight for me. Sound created pictures in my head, a sixth sense that allowed my mind to piece together movements in my mind without having to physically see the scene.
“You.” Granny’s voice pitched into a near scream. My gaze shifted to see her storming out from behind the counter. She stopped just a few feet in front of them, hands on her hips, eyes hard, licking with fire. “You aren’t welcome in my establishment. So get the hell out of here.”
One of the suits, an older gentleman with graying hair, smirked.
“We’re part of this town, Ms. Harlow,” the man reminded her, as if that somehow meant something. “We have the same right to come here as everyone else.”
The café, which had already dimmed to hushed whispers upon their arrival, dropped silent, like dead weight.
“It’s cute that you think you’re part of this town, Mr. Deadrick,” she spat. “And you don’t have the right. But I have theright to refuse service to anyone I see fit, and that happens to be you and your colleague here.”
The man didn’t release his smirk. If anything, it deepened.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he placated, but his voice still held a deadly tone. “You know what we want, and you could make it easier on yourself and everyone in this town if you just handed it over.”
Granny scoffed.
“You aren’t getting this shop,” she hissed. “You’ll have to kill me before I give it up to you.”
“That can be arranged,” the second suit sneered. A low growl rumbled in my chest, and my fists clenched hard as I struggled to keep my inner wolf from making an appearance.
Hearing the disturbance, both men turned toward me.
“What do we have here?” the older man asked, appraising me as if I were a piece of meat at a butcher shop. “Family of yours, Lizzie? You wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, now, would you?”
“I think you should leave.” The sheriff, having finished his coffee, stood from his chair and grabbed his hat. Placing it on his head, he said, “You were already asked once, and we don’t take too kindly to threats here. So unless you men want to end up down in county, I suggest you listen to the good woman and leave.”
The older suit glared at the sheriff, his eyes shifting slightly in his anger. Just a small silver glint. It wasn’t enough for a human to catch, but I did.
“You have twenty-four hours to accept our generous offer before my company is forced to take harsher actions,” he threatened. “It would be wise of you to take the deal,Granny.” He spat her nickname out like it disgusted him.
“Leave.”
Snarling, the two men turned on their heels, but not before the gray-haired one cast another curious look in my direction. Only when the door had settled in place and their car had driven off did the café begin to buzz again.
Granny rolled her shoulders back and held her head high before she headed back to the counter as if nothing had happened. In fact, the entire café was acting as if the sudden disturbance was a daily occurrence.
“Who were they?” I looked up at the sheriff.
