Helena's POV
I didn't think. I didn't hesitate.
The moment that sick, electric prickle crawled up my spine, I yanked my apron over my head and headed straight for Mitch's office. My heart was racing too fast, my pulse loud in my ears. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to leave.
"Hey, Mitch," I said, pushing the office door open without knocking. "I kinda need the day off. I've got really bad cramps."
He didn't even look up from counting the cash drawer. "You don't look like you've got anything."
Of course he said that.
I clenched my jaw. Mitch was the kind of man who measured people by how much money they brought him. Pain, exhaustion, and even illness didn't matter to him unless it interfered with his profit.
"Come on, man," I pressed, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I've attended to all my customers' orders already."
He finally looked up, eyes sharp and calculating. "And what about the new ones? Who's attending to them?"
"Ummm—"
"Hey, boss. I've got it covered."
Grace leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her lips twitching like she was barely holding back a grin. I could've hugged her. I shot her a grateful look before turning back to Mitch.
"And who's covering your customers?" Mitch asked her, suspicious.
Grace didn't miss a beat. "Boss, I can handle it, and the cramps got her bad. She almost broke a bottle earlier."
My face went neutral just in time. I nearly laughed.
"Which bottle?" Mitch asked sharply.
Grace tilted her head. "The expensive one."
That did it.
His eyes widened slightly. Everyone in the pub knew Mitch hated two things: damages to anything that cost more than it should.
"Well," he said after a moment, waving his hand dismissively, "I wouldn't want you destroying my things just because of some pain. You can have today off. But I expect you back bright and early tomorrow. If I don't see you, forget you ever had a job here."
"Thanks, Mitch," I said quickly.
He nodded once, already done with me.
I grabbed my jacket and bag, my movements fast but controlled.
"Hey, Grace," I said as I passed her, lowering my voice. "I owe you one."
She smirked. "Full payment. No excuses."
"For sure," I said, forcing a grin.
I didn't waste another second.
The moment I stepped outside, the night air hit me hard — cold, sharp, heavy with the smell of rain and something else. I didn't look back at the pub. I didn't slow down.
I walked fast. Too fast for a normal woman. But not fast enough for what was out there.
Leave the town, a voice in my head urged. Now.
Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe it was just a random werewolf passing through, looking for a drink. It wasn't unheard of.
But my instincts had never been wrong before.
And I wasn't about to ignore them now.
I packed what little I had in my room upstairs — clothes, documents, cash — and went downstairs to say goodbye to Irene. She was sitting in her usual spot by the window, the old rocking chair creaking softly as she knitted what looked like a half-finished cardigan.
"Hey, Irene," I said.
She didn't look up.
"You're leaving."
I stopped short, my breath catching. "How did you—"
"I always know when someone's about to run," she said calmly.
I'd always suspected she saw more than she let on.
"Yeah," I admitted. "Thank you for everything. I've got the rent money with me and—"
"Keep it."
I frowned. "But—"
"You'll need it more than I do," she interrupted, finally lifting her eyes to meet mine. They were sharper than usual. Too knowing. "No buts, young lady."
Emotion tightened my throat. "Thank you."
She nodded, then waved her knitting needle at the door. "Shoo. You've got a long night ahead of you."
I paused. "What do you mean by that?"
Her lips curved into a strange, unreadable smile. "Exactly what I said."
Unease coiled in my stomach, but I didn't press her. I never felt she was anything other than human, though sometimes I doubted it. I slung my small bag over my shoulder and left.
The bus station was dimly lit and nearly empty. A few tired travelers sat on metal benches, their faces drawn and hollow. I chose a seat near the exit, my bag clutched tightly against my side.
That was when I had the feeling of being watched, that heavy pressure like eyes on my skin.
I shifted, scanning the room casually — too casually. And then I saw him.
He stood near the far wall, partially cloaked in shadow, tall and broad-shouldered. His presence was wrong in a way that made my bones ache. Silver eyes locked onto mine.
The werewolf from the pub. My breath stuttered. I stood up.
So did he.
I didn't wait, and I bolted.
The cold night air burned my lungs as I ran, boots pounding against the pavement. I turned corners at random and ducked into alleys, my heart slamming violently in my chest.
Almost there, I told myself. Just keep moving. A blur of motion flashed beside me. Then pain exploded at the back of my skull. The world tilted violently before everything went black.
I woke to darkness.
Not the soft kind — the kind that pressed in on all sides, thick and suffocating. My head throbbed, my body heavy, limbs sluggish.
Stone beneath my fingers. Cold and smooth. I tried to move, but ,my wrists burned.
Chains.
I sucked in a sharp breath and forced my eyes open.
Torchlight flickered along the walls, illuminating carved stone and arched ceilings. The air was cool and smelled faintly of iron and incense. This wasn't a dungeon.
It was… elegant.
Ancient.
Footsteps echoed. Slow and unhurried.
A man stepped into view, tall and pale, dressed in dark, tailored clothing. His eyes glowed red in the low light, sharp and assessing.
Vampire.
He smiled slightly, revealing just a hint of fang.
"Well," he said softly, his voice smooth as silk. "You're finally awake."
My stomach dropped.
Whatever hell I'd run into…
It wasn't the one I expected.