It has been months without any incidents. My life has returned to its new normal, or so I thought. The clinking of silverware against fine china fills the air, a symphony of elegance that belies the storm brewing within me. I smooth my apron over my hips, the fabric crisp and starched, a stark contrast to the chaos churning in my chest. The black diamond nestled against my heart pulses faintly, a silent reminder of the danger that lurks just beyond the gilded walls of Cher's. The restaurant is a haven of sophistication—soft candlelight casting golden hues, the murmur of polite conversation, the intoxicating aroma of truffle oil and roasted garlic wafting from the kitchen. It's the kind of place that makes you forget the world outside, if only for a moment. But I can't afford to forget. Not tonight. Not ever.
Alden stands across the dining room, a beacon of flamboyance in a sea of muted tones. His caramel skin glows under the warm lights, and his fiery red curls seem to catch every flicker of the candles, as if they're conspiring to make him the center of attention. He's polishing a wine glass with a dramatic flourish, his amber eyes scanning the room with the precision of a performer. I roll my eyes, but the corner of my lips twitches upward. He's my anchor in this human world, my best friend, my mentor—and tonight, my lifeline.
"Layla," he calls, his voice carrying a hint of urgency beneath its usual wit. "Table seven needs their wine. And try not to set anything on fire this time."
I shoot him a mock glare as I grab the bottle of Pinot Noir from the bar, the cool glass a welcome contrast to the heat rising in my cheeks. "I'm a dragon shifter, not a pyromaniac. There's a difference."
"Tell that to the tablecloth from last week," he retorts, his lips twitching into a smirk that makes my heart flutter despite the circumstances.
I ignore him, weaving through the crowded dining room with practiced ease. The diamond in my chest throbs again, a rhythmic pulse that syncs with the beat of my heart. It's a constant reminder of why I'm here, why I'm hiding in plain sight. The Syndicate is still hunting me, still desperate to rip the gem from my body and summon the Fire Dragon. I've managed to stay one step ahead, but tonight feels different. The air is heavy, charged with an energy I can't quite place, like the calm before a storm that only I can sense.
As I approach table seven, my skin prickles, every nerve ending on high alert. My dragon senses are screaming at me, though I can't pinpoint why. The guests seem ordinary enough—a group of well-dressed patrons, their laughter loud and their appetites hearty. But something about them feels… off. It's in the way their eyes linger too long, the way their smiles don't quite reach their eyes.
I pour the wine, my hands steady despite the unease creeping up my spine. The liquid glints in the candlelight, a deep ruby red that contrasts sharply with the stark white tablecloth. "Enjoy your meal," I murmur, my voice steady, though my throat feels dry.
One of the men, tall, with sharp features and eyes that seem to bore into me, smiles. It's not a friendly smile. It's the kind of smile that makes your skin crawl, the kind that says he knows something you don't. "Thank you," he says, his tone smooth, almost too smooth, like silk stretched over steel. "We're celebrating a special occasion tonight."
My pulse quickens, the diamond in my chest thrumming louder, as if it recognizes him. I force a smile, my fingers tightening around the wine bottle. They're here. They've found me.
I need to leave. Now. But I can't just walk out in the middle of a shift. Not without raising suspicion. I glance toward Alden, who's still at the bar, his back to me. He's my only hope.
As if sensing my distress, he turns, his eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, we just stare at each other, a silent conversation passing between us. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he drops the glass he's holding. It shatters on the floor, the sound cutting through the hum of the restaurant like a knife.
"Oh, dear me!" he exclaims, his voice loud and full of faux despair. "Clumsy Alden strikes again! Layla, darling, could you grab a broom? I seem to have made a mess."
The room falls silent for a beat, all eyes turning toward us. I seize the opportunity, my heart pounding in my ears. "Of course," I say, my voice steady despite the panic coursing through me. "I'll be right back."