The next morning, I woke up drenched in sweat, heart pounding, fear still clinging to my skin like a second layer.
Again.
I sighed, rubbing my face. Night after night after night. I was so goddamn tired.
Running my hand through my tangled hair, I unbraided it, brushed it out, and quickly twisted it back into a braid. The sound of Mary singing in the shower echoed through the apartment.
I started breakfast. A few minutes later, she strutted into the kitchen, wrapped in my bath towel.
"You know, you could use the one I bought for you instead of stealing mine."
"But where's the fun in that? Besides, you took the best one! This one is fluffier and softer. You always keep the nice things for yourself!"
She grinned, unbothered.
I rolled my eyes. "Fine. I'll pick up another one before my shift tonight."
"Thank you, my love!" She twirled dramatically. "Ooooh, it smells amazing! I never eat in the morning, but I'll make an exception today."
"I'm making an omelet with bacon, cheese, and shallots. And coffee. Lots of coffee."
"Damn, my mouth is already watering! I'll make us some coffee before I get dressed."
She turned on some obnoxiously cheerful pop song on my kitchen speaker. I frowned, switching it to rock. She just laughed and kept dancing, unfazed, singing along anyway. Nothing could kill her energy—not even my shitty mood.
She handed me my coffee before disappearing into my room, still humming.
It wouldn't be so bad having her here again. As long as she kept her love life outside my apartment.
Mary had a habit of attracting dramatic, short-lived relationships. Not because she wasn't beautiful—she was stunning—but because, deep down, I think she was searching for her mate.
She still had hope.
A good quality.
One I didn't share.
We were doomed. We had fucked up too much.
After breakfast, Mary left for work, and I decided to hit the gym.
I needed to clear my head.
I blasted heavy metal loud enough to make me deaf and threw myself into lifting.
That's when I saw him.
Maxwell.
He had made a deal with the gym's human owner—a way to train those who needed it, no matter what they were.
Max was kind. Patient. Dangerous.
He had trained me after Cairn—when I had lost myself. When I had been nothing but a shell of who I used to be.
He had saved me.
Once, he had been caught up in dark affairs. Once, he had a mate. A daughter. He lost them both to his past mistakes. It shattered him. And then, it changed him.
Now, he was one of the last of his kind.
One of the last to have ever had a mate.
"Hey, Aleena! How are you?"
"I'm okay. You?"
"Been off the grid for a while—helping a friend. But damn, it's good to see you! You look horrible, as always."
I snorted. "I know."
He knew about my shitty sleep. My even shittier job. No point in lying.
"You free to train? I need to blow off some steam."
"Yeah. Go drink some water and meet me in the back."
I did as he said. And braced myself.
Because while Max was kind—he was also merciless.
His "warm-up" nearly killed me. Three rounds of laps, push-ups, sit-ups, and power squats left my tongue practically dragging on the floor.
Then, he drilled the basics. "A strong foundation builds a house that lasts." He always said that.
Finally, we sparred.
I was fast. Strong. But nowhere near a match for the mountain of muscle before me.
Max moved like smoke—there one moment, gone the next. Fighting him felt like trying to catch shadows. He was precise. Efficient. A master of the dance.
By the end, I was so exhausted I didn't even bother stretching before heading home.
Straight to the shower.
Then, I devoured whatever leftovers I could find in the fridge.
I tried to nap. Failed.
So I started a new book.
Hours passed.
Mary texted—said she was heading to Valentina's, then packing a bag to bring here. She promised she wouldn't drag Valentina into my apartment and wished me luck for my night shift.
Right. Work.
I had almost forgotten.
Tonight, I had to deal with Andrew.
He had been nagging me all week about working Saturday. The one day I asked off every year.
I never called in sick. Never took vacations. Always said yes when he needed me last-minute.
And he still had the audacity to ask.
I was over it.
So, I got dressed, grabbed my bag, and headed to work early.
Because I was going to have a conversation with Andrew.
His car was already in the lot. Good.
I walked into the club and knocked on his office door.
"Come in."
I stepped inside—and immediately regretted it.
Maïa was on her knees.
Andrew was leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, Maïa's head bobbing between his legs. The wet, guttural sounds told me exactly how deep she was taking him.
Not that I was surprised.
Just disgusted.
"What do you want?" Andrew asked, not even bothering to sound annoyed.
I forced my gaze to the wall. Focus.
"I wanted to talk about next Saturday."
"Ah! Yes! Maïa, pack your shit and get out. Be back in ten."
She pulled back with a breathless gasp, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her bra strap slipped down her shoulder as she staggered to her feet, clearly stoned out of her mind.
She swayed toward the door, adjusting her clothes before slipping out, closing it behind her.
"Look," Andrew said, lacing his fingers behind his head, "I really need you to work Saturday."
I clenched my jaw. "I asked for that day off three months ago, Andrew. I never take days off."
He sighed, like I was inconveniencing him.
"Yeah, well, business is business. If you don't show up Saturday, don't bother coming back."
My stomach twisted.
I couldn't afford to lose this job. And he knew it.
He fucking knew it.
I turned to leave, rage bubbling under my skin.
Then—
"But," he said, "we could make an arrangement."
I stopped.
Slowly, I turned back to him.
"What kind of arrangement?"