Chapter 1 - Sonya

I’ve learned there’s a special kind of torture reserved for waiting tables in a packed bar on a Friday night. It’s the kind where everyone seems to think they’re your boss, yelling orders over the music and treating you like you’re invisible unless their drink is late.

I’m not bitter, not really. Just exhausted.

“Hey, sweetie, where’s my beer?” Some guy at a table to my left waves a half-empty bottle in my direction like I’m a genie who can just conjure up another one with a snap of my fingers. I force a smile and bite back the urge to tell him where he can shove his beer.

“Coming right up,” I tell him, even though it’ll be at least five more minutes because every other person in this place has the same idea.

I weave through the crowd, balancing my tray precariously on one hand as I dodge elbows and shuffling feet. The lights are low, but not in that flattering, hide-your-flaws kind of way. More like the murky, can’t-see-where-you’re-going-so-good-luck kind. Green Lake isn’t Stardust Hollow, but some nights, it feels like a mirror image—small-town vibes, everyone in your business, full of shifters, and the constant, unmistakable feeling that you’re always on display. Only here, I’m not the main attraction. I’m just passing through, waiting for my moment to make a clean break and disappear.

Betsy’s behind the bar, wiping down glasses with a rag that’s probably older than I am. She glances up as I walk up, lifting an eyebrow in that knowing way she has. She doesn’t ask how I’m doing anymore. Something tells me she’s seen enough people running from something to know it without words. Instead, she just slides a fresh beer across the counter, her version of sympathy.

“Busy night,” she comments. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.

“Yeah,” I reply, taking the bottle and adding it to my tray. “They’re thirsty tonight.”

Betsy nods, but she’s already moved on, scanning the room like a hawk. She’s probably making a mental list of who’s going to cause trouble first. I wish I had her knack for spotting a disaster before it happens. Might’ve saved me from a lot of grief back in Stardust Hollow. But here I am, miles away and still feeling like I’m one step behind.

I make my rounds, dropping off drinks and picking up tips that barely cover the bills stacking up back at my little rental. It’s not much, but it’s something, and for now, something is enough. Jane keeps saying I could stay with her and Reiner, but the last thing I want is to crash their newly mated bliss with my baggage. Plus, Jane doesn’t need to hear the details of why I’m really here, hiding out until my ex’s wedding blows over and I can go back without feeling like everyone’s eyes are on me.

A laugh bursts out from a table near the back, a loud, genuine sound that cuts through the noise. I glance over to see a group of friends, probably locals, celebrating something or each other. Birthdays, engagements, who knows? For a second, I envy them—their carefree smiles, the easy way they fit into this town without even trying. I can’t remember the last time I felt like that, like I belonged somewhere without having to try so hard.

“Hey, Sonya!” one of the regulars calls out from his spot at the bar, waving me over. It’s Tom, a grizzled old-timer who’s been coming here longer than anyone can remember. He’s harmless enough, always polite, and tips decently even when he’s had a few too many.

“What can I get you, Tom?” I ask, already reaching for my notepad out of habit.

Tom gives me a tired smile, the kind that says he’s seen too much and isn’t impressed by any of it. “Just another round, if you don’t mind. Busy night, huh?”

“You’re telling me,” I agree, scribbling down his order, though I could do it in my sleep by now. “How’s your night going?”

“Better now that you’re here,” Tom says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It’s a line, but not one that sets my teeth on edge. He’s just being friendly, and in a place like this, full of drunks and usually plenty of hotheads, that’s a rare enough thing.

I nod and head back to the bar, dodging a couple of women who are dancing like they’re in a club instead of a dive where the most sophisticated drink on offer is a whiskey sour. My feet are killing me, and I’ve got at least another couple of hours before I can even think about sitting down, but I push through. It’s just one night, and I’ve survived worse.

By the time I get Tom his drink, the bar’s starting to thin out. The early crowd is trickling home while the die-hards settle in for the long haul. I take a moment to catch my breath, leaning against the bar as Betsy shoves a bowl of pretzels in front of me.

“Eat,” she instructs me, though not unkindly. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”

I laugh, a short, breathless sound that’s more from habit than humor. “Thanks, Betsy. You always know how to make a girl feel special.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile there, too. “Just looking out for you, hon. This place will eat you alive if you let it.”

I nod, munching on a pretzel and watching the room. She’s right, of course. Green Lake isn’t a place you stay if you’re looking for easy answers or a soft landing. But for now, it’s better than what I left behind. And it’ll be enough to keep me going until I figure out where I’m supposed to be.

The night drags on, and just when I think I might catch a break, the door swings open, and a new wave of energy hits the bar. I glance up, and immediately wish I hadn’t. Jack Thomas strolls in like he owns the place. His swagger is almost as loud as the laughter that follows him.

Great. Just what I needed—Green Lake’s very own playboy, gracing us with his presence.

Jack’s got that effortless charm, the kind that’s all smiles and no substance. He’s the type who’s never met a mirror he didn’t like, and from the way he’s strutting across the room, you’d think he was walking a red carpet instead of into a bar with a sticky floor.

He’s Reiner’s cousin, or so I’ve been told, and apparently the black sheep of whatever shifter family they’ve got going on. They do look alike, if you squint. The same dark hair, the same cocky smile, though Jack’s hair has some lighter brown highlights. And his eyes are a honey-brown instead of Reiner’s deep, rich color.

I don’t want to stare, but it’s impossible not to. Jack’s like a train wreck, the kind you can’t look away from even though you know you should. A really good-looking train wreck, with a body that could belong to a marble statue. He’s broad-shouldered and lean, and everything about him screams, “I’m up for a good time.”

He catches me looking and winks. Great. That’s the last thing I need. Jack Thomas is trouble, and I don’t have the time or the patience for his kind of games. Jane warned me about him once, saying something about how he’s fun but not to be taken seriously. Honestly, I don’t have the time or the energy for any of it. Besides, at thirty, he’s a bit too old to be pulling that shit.

Jack’s got a small entourage with him, a mix of familiar faces and one or two I haven’t seen before. But it’s the loud one at the back that catches my attention—a guy with an obnoxious laugh and a smirk that’s already making my eyes roll on their own. Tanner, if I remember right. One of those types who thinks he’s God’s gift to women and doesn’t have the manners to back it up.

“Hey, Sonya! Got a minute?” Jack calls out as he slides onto a barstool, drumming his fingers on the counter like he’s waiting for someone to wait on him hand and foot.

“Sure,” I say, plastering on my best neutral smile. I grab my notepad and head over, trying to keep my irritation in check. “What can I get you guys?”

Jack’s grin widens, all teeth and mischief. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. We’ll take a round of whatever’s cold, and keep ‘em coming, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Right. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping at him. “Got it,” I respond, scribbling down the order. I turn to leave, but not before catching Tanner’s sideways glance at me. His lip curls like he’s just smelled something bad.

“So, this is the new help, huh?” Tanner says, loud enough for half the bar to hear. “Guess they’re hiring just anyone these days. Man, I miss the days when a chick had to be hot as shit to wait tables around here. At least they knew how to fill out a pair of jeans. Not like this one. Hey, honey, you mind telling us how many people it took to help you get those jeans over your ass?”

My face flushes with heat, and I can feel the sting of tears threatening to form. I know what I look like. I’m no size two, but I’m healthy, and I’ve learned to love my curves. I don’t need the likes of Tanner reminding me that some people aren’t as accepting.

I pause, my grip tightening on the notepad, but after I take a breath, I keep walking, letting the comment roll off my back. It’s not the first time I’ve heard worse, and it sure as hell won’t be the last.

I drop off the order at the bar, and Betsy’s already filling glasses before I’ve even finished talking. She doesn’t miss much, and from the way her mouth is set in a firm line, I can tell she’s heard Tanner, too.

“You okay?” she asks, not looking up from the drinks she’s pouring.

“Yeah,” I say, though it sounds unconvincing even to my own ears. “Just another night.”

She nods, but there’s a glint of something in her eyes. Pity, maybe. The kind that makes me feel small, like I’m being looked at under a microscope. I hate it.

I take the drinks and head back over to Jack’s table, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. Jack’s in the middle of a story, something about a mission with the pack gone wrong, and the guys are eating it up like he’s spinning gold instead of the usual bullshit. I set the drinks down with a steady hand, ignoring Tanner’s lingering gaze.

“Here you go,” I state, keeping my voice even. “Anything else?”

Tanner snorts. “Yeah, how about a gym membership? Might do you some good.”

The comment hangs in the air, heavier than the humid buzz of the bar, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to react. Jack’s smile fades just a little, and he shoots Tanner a sharp look.

“Hey, knock it off,” Jack scolds, though his tone is more dismissive than genuinely concerned. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Tanner just shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. “Just saying. Some people could use a little constructive criticism.”

I’ve put up with a lot of crap since coming here, but there’s a limit, and I’m about to reach it.

I don’t even think before I speak. “You know, if I wanted advice on how to live my life, I’d ask someone who actually has theirs together.”

Tanner’s eyes widen in mock surprise, and the rest of the table goes quiet. Jack glances between us, looking like he’s debating whether to step in or let it play out.

“Whoa, the new girl’s got some bite,” Tanner comments. “I guess you have to when you’re compensating.”

“Compensating for what?” I snap back, the words sharp and hot. “For the fact that I’m not some washed-up frat boy who thinks the world owes him something?”

There’s a beat of silence, the kind that makes your heart race and your palms sweat. Jack’s watching me, and I can see Betsy out of the corner of my eye, her brow furrowing like she knows what’s coming next.

“All right, that’s enough,” Jack says finally. He looks at Tanner, then back at me as if he’s trying to defuse a bomb without knowing which wire to cut. “Both of you, cool it.”

But Tanner isn’t backing down. His chair scrapes against the floor as he stands, and suddenly, he’s in my space, towering over me like he’s got something to prove. “You think you’re hot shit, don’t you? Rolling in here like you’re better than everyone else. Just because you’re from Stardust Hollow.”

My pulse is pounding in my ears, but I don’t back down. I’ve dealt with bullies before, and I’m not about to let some arrogant jerk be the one to break me. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“Hey, let’s all calm down,” Jack says again, stepping between us. But it’s too late; the damage is done. Tanner’s still glaring at me, and I can feel the heat of everyone’s eyes on us, waiting for the next move.

“Whatever,” Tanner mutters, brushing past Jack. “She’s not worth it.”

The next few moments are a blur. There’s shouting, a lot of it, and suddenly, Betsy’s there, pulling me aside with a firm grip on my arm. “That’s enough, Sonya. You can’t be fighting with the customers.”

I blink, trying to catch my breath, but everything feels off-kilter, like the room’s tilting sideways. “I wasn’t… he started it—”

“I know, but he’s been coming here for years. You’re new.”

And there it is, the unspoken rule of small-town politics: loyalty to the regulars, no matter how much of a jerk they might be.

“So, what?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Are you going to fire me for defending myself?”

Betsy doesn’t answer right away, but the look on her face is all I need to see. She squeezes my arm once, gently, and then lets go. “I’m sorry, Sonya.”

The words hit like a slap, and suddenly, I’m not just angry—I’m furious. Furious at Tanner for being an ass, at Jack for not doing more, at myself for thinking I could start a new life outside of Stardust Hollow. Without another word, I grab my things and head for the door, ignoring the stares and the whispers that follow me out.

I was just trying to keep my head down, to get through the night without making waves. But Jack and his friends had to come in and blow it all to hell. And now I’m out of a job because some guys can’t handle a woman who stands up for herself.

My anger simmers just below the surface as I stomp through the streets of downtown Green Lake. I can feel the tears threatening to spill, but I won’t let them. Not now. Not because of them. I might have lost this round, but I’m not about to let Jack Thomas or anyone else make me feel small.