Page 48 of Thrown to the Wolves

But the wail of distant sirens makes us both jerk to attention. Tilting my head back and forth to stretch my newly-relocated shoulder, I let out a yawn. “C’mon. Let’s go get coffee.”

A beat of surprise flickers across her face before she gives a soft, bemused chuckle. “Yeah, okay. Why not? Lead the way…Wolf.”

With that, we fall into step, two dark hearts slithering between the innocent people of Chicago as they start their workdays.

I like her. I really do.

And that’s a problem.

CHAPTER 24

Scarlett

The first thing that hits me as we enter the cafe is the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air, followed fast by bacon and toast and eggs—God, I’m starving. And my senses, honed to a razor’s edge under Grandmother’s training, are almost overloaded by the simple, cozy ambiance of the bustling cafe around us.

Sunlight streams through the broad front windows, bathing everything in a warm golden glow as the city stirs to wakefulness outside. We get a table right there in the window, and put in a breakfast order, and for just a fleeting moment, I almost feel…normal. An ordinary girl sharing a morning coffee and a breakfast date with a hot blonde before we both head off to our respective nine-to-fives. The illusion is so tantalizingly real that I allow myself to indulge in it for a few stolen heartbeats.

“So,” Lyssa murmurs, unable to completely mask the smirk tugging at the corner of her bruised lip. “You just gonna sit there looking all dreamy-eyed, or you want to actually drink that?”

I blink, her wry observation snapping me out of my brief reverie as she nods toward the steaming mug cradled between my palms. Lifting it to my lips, I take an indulgent sip, the rich flavor flooding my mouth.

Almost like old times, really. Before everything went completely ass over teakettle.

Lyssa chuckles.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m just remembering the look on that guy’s face,” she says, still grinning. “When you laid him out with that spinning heel kick? Thought his eyeballs were gonna pop right out of his skull.”

Despite my best efforts, I can’t quite stifle the snort of laughter that bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest. Our giggles draw a few sidelong glances, but I can’t bring myself to care. Not when it feels so bizarrely…right, even though we’re sitting here rehashing the finer points of the vicious beatdown we just handed out.

But the momentary illusion doesn’t last. Something changes in Lyssa’s face—freezes, as she catches sight of something—someone—outside.

“Shit,” she mutters, and then plasters on a carefully neutral expression and gives a half-hearted wave. “Double shit. They’re coming in. Scar, just—be cool, okay?”

Before I even register the telltale tinkle of the brass bell over the entrance, the hair on the back of my neck is already standing on end, every instinct zeroing in on the new arrivals.

I can’t believe it.

“I can’t believe it!” chirps a happy voice, unknowingly echoing my thoughts. “Imagine running into you like this, Lyssa! What are you doing here?”

It’s Aurora Verderosa. And she’s all sugary sweetness and light.

I feel a strange sense of unreality come over me as I recognize her, though I’ve never met her, or the woman behind her, though I know her, too. It’s the housekeeper at Elysium, Mrs. Graves. Both women have arms laden down by shopping bags brimming over with what looks like…

Fabric swatches and cake samples?

“We’re out really early too,” Aurora says, dropping her voice to confide, “I know it must seem odd, but we—well, we keep strange hours.” She shoots a glance at Lyssa.

But I’m still finding my voice, because Aurora’s face made me stop breathing for a second. She’s the kind of beautiful you don’t expect to see in the flesh, and it’s topped off with a smile so warm and earnest I think I might actually get cavities just looking at her. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you,” she says to me, sticking out a hand from somewhere under all the bags. “I’m Aurora.”

Lyssa finally falters a bit, fighting to keep her expression neutral as she exchanges a loaded glance with me from across the tiny cafe table.

I take Aurora’s hand and try to be polite. “Hi,” I say. “I’m…Ruby.”

Mrs. Graves is right behind, smiling merrily as she studies both Lyssa and me for a long, considering moment. But then some of the tension seeps from me as she simply shakes her head fondly and turns to me.

“And I’m Mrs. Graves. How nice to meet you, Ruby,” she says. “You’ve gotten Lyssa out very early; she’s usually more of a night owl.” I give a weak smile, but Mrs. Graves is looking more closely at Lyssa’s face. “But perhaps this is a late night rather than an early morning. I do hope you girls are keeping out of trouble?” The pointed lilt to her inquiry is unmistakable. Her eyes are on Lyssa’s bruised mouth, and then return to my cheekbone, which I’m pretty sure is a little puffy after a Sokolov right hook managed to clip me in the alley.

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