Outside, the cool breeze caresses my cheeks, offering me temporary relief from the turmoil within the diner. My racing heart gradually slows, and I glance at my watch, counting the minutes until I can go home. With any luck, my stepfather will be passed out drunk again when I return home.
Reentering the diner, I remain in the kitchen, busying myself with washing the mugs while the men continue their meeting. Their voices have shifted to low, hushed tones, punctuated by arguing. As I dry and put away the wash mugs, I can't help but notice their persistent glances in my direction. The unease in the room intensifies.
Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, I retrieve the broom from the far side of the kitchen and stand in a corner, sweeping the same spot repeatedly to avoid the unsettling attention that seems to be following me.
The men begin to leave the diner, one by one, and I finally exhale a sigh of relief. My shoulders relax, and I turn, intending to tell Jim I would also be leaving, but I gasp as Ryker stands, towering over me.
I try to keep my eyes down, afraid my hood might fall back. I hear Ryker’s breath harden and his chest rise and fall rapidly. I gather my courage to speak, my voice trembling with apprehension. 'I'm so sorry, but my shift is over. If you need anything else, please see Jim,' I implore gently, attempting to step aside and bypass Ryker.
As I’m about to walk past him, his arm blocks my path, and I gasp as his fist strikes the wall beside my head. Cowering in fright, I huddle down, my arms instinctively shielding my head from the perceived threat. Quivering, I tilt my head. My bruised eye remains under the shadows of my hood, while my unwounded eye stares at Ryker’s fist still in the wall. I glance down at the particles and dust cascading to the ground as he slowly removes his hand.
Ryker remains silent, his puzzled gaze locked on my hooded figure. Was he expecting me to retaliate? To defend myself? He's a grown man, well into his twenties, built like a professional wrestler. In contrast, I'm almost eighteen, much shorter at five foot three, slim, and weakened from a life of scarcity at home, subsisting on scraps and whatever I can scavenge at the diner without burdening Jim.
Gradually, Ryker's perplexed expression shifts to one of concern. He takes a cautious step toward me and squats down to my level, his eyes darting to my trembling hands.
My voice shakes as I ask him, 'What do you want from me?' I press my back firmly against the wall, yearning to create as much distance between us as possible.
'I want you to pull down your hood, Astrid,' he asserts.
Panicking, I shake my head vehemently. 'No!' My gaze darts to the area behind Ryker. 'Jim! Jim!' I shout with desperation, hoping my plea will reach him.
Swiftly, I attempt to dart around Ryker, but he moves with unexpected speed, blocking my path and leaving me cornered against the wall with no escape route. Ryker leans closer, our bodies mere inches apart, and a magnetic heat builds between us.
A self-assured smirk tugs at Ryker's lips as he taunts, 'Jim is busy saying goodbye to the last of his pack members outside. He thinks I've already left.' He reaches out to run his fingers through my long, dark brown hair, sitting over my shoulder, twirling it gently while his eyes darken ever so slightly.
I can't help but wonder if my recent beatings at the hands of my stepfather have begun to affect my mind, causing hallucinations.
Ryker's nostrils flare as he inhales my scent, and his words send a shiver down my spine. 'You smell so good, Astrid. Even my wolf is struggling to stay calm,' he confesses.
My fear intensifies upon hearing the word 'wolf.' I can't help but blurt out, trembling, 'Y-you have a pet wolf?' Tears well up in my eyes, threatening to spill over.
Ryker chuckles at my question, his deep voice resonating with a hint of amusement. 'You seem frightened of me, Astrid,' he observes.
'Why wouldn't I be?' I reply quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Ryker's face inches closer to mine, and he whispers, 'Well, if you are what my senses are telling me you are and also a rogue, then I guess you should be scared. An Alpha has never had a rogue as a mate, which complicates things. Our pack also may not like having a rogue as their Luna,' he says in a troubled tone.
'I'm sorry,' I mumble, my confusion deepening. 'I don't understand. I'm not sure what you're talking about with rogues, Lunas, and mates. But I assure you, I won't be a problem for you or anyone. In fact, I would appreciate it if you just let me go home, and we will never have to see each other again,' I whimper.
Ryker continues to peer into the shadows of my hooded face, his expression incredulous. 'Do you take me for some kind of fool, Astrid?' he questions, his eyes narrowing.
'No, I don't think that. Please, I just want to go home. Please let me go,' I plead.
Ryker moves back, but only a few inches. 'If you are not my mate, then I will let you go,' he says.
Summoning every ounce of courage I can muster, I speak with a hint of defiance, 'I can assure you, I would never want to be anywhere near an arrogant, vain, obnoxious human being like you. So there, have I convinced you that I am not your mate? Now move and let me go!' I shout.
Ryker's jaw clenches, his fists ball into fists, and his eyes narrow further with anger. 'How dare you refer to me as a human!' he growls, animalistically.
Realizing that he has no intention of moving out of my way, I slide down against the wall, hug my knees tightly, and allow my tears to flow freely. 'I don't know what to tell you. I don't even know what being a mate means,' I confess through my tears.
Ryker steps back and pauses, staring at me in disbelief, his expression a mix of anger and confusion.