15

Scarlett.

The morning sun streamed through the windows of our café, casting warm shadows across the freshly polished tables. Five years. Sometimes it felt like another lifetime since I’d fled the pack, and other mornings – like today – the memories rose fresh and raw in my mind.

“Your coffee’s getting cold,” Alisha called from behind the counter, her dark hair now streaked with subtle caramel highlights – another small act of rebellion we’d both embraced in the human world. She’d traded her maid’s uniform for chef’s whites, and the confidence in her bearing made her unrecognizable from the timid wolf who’d once served the pack.

I smiled, watching the morning rush of humans queuing up for their breakfast pastries. Our pastries. Who would have thought a former Luna and her maid would end up owning the most popular café in downtown Portland? The irony wasn’t lost on me.

“Just lost in thought,” I replied, but Alisha’s knowing look told me she understood. We both had days when the past crept up on us.

Five Years Earlier

We’d arrived in Portland with nothing but the clothes on our backs and the few hundred dollars Alisha managed to grab during our escape. The city had been overwhelming—the cacophony of human scents, the constant noise, the pressing crowds. We spent our first night huddled in a cheap motel room, jumping at every sound.

“What do we do now, Luna?” Alisha had whispered, her voice trembling. Gone was the brave wolf who’d helped me escape; reality was setting in hard.

“First, Alisha, don’t call me Luna here,” I replied. “Here, nobody knows about wolves. We need to adapt and behave like them. We need to cover our traces of being different.”

She nodded. “What should I call you?”

“Scarlett. Call me by my name.”

She gasped, staring at me. “I can’t be rude.”

“You’re not.” I patted her head.

She stared at me for a while before she gave in. “Okay, Scarlett, what should we do now?”

I stared at our meager resources spread across the bed. “We work. We adapt. We survive.”

And we did. I took a job washing dishes at a diner, while Alisha cleaned offices at night. We shared a tiny studio apartment, sleeping in shifts on a single mattress on the floor. Every penny we earned went into a jar labeled “Future.”

The first year was hell. My hands grew more callused and rough. My back ached from hours of standing, and my wolf, Ray, howled in frustration at being contained in the concrete jungle. But with each paycheck, each small victory, I felt something growing inside me that Dickson had never been able to beat out: pride.

Present Day

“Earth to Scarlett,” Alisha waved a freshly baked croissant under my nose. “Table five needs their order.”

I grabbed the serving tray, expertly weaving between tables. We’d learned the art of baking from YouTube videos, practicing in our tiny kitchen until we’d mastered every recipe. The first time we sold out of pastries, we both cried happy tears.

“Remember when you burned that first batch of cookies?” I teased as I passed her on my way back to the counter.

“Remember when you thought a mixer had to be held the entire time it was running?” she shot back, and we both laughed.

Our café, Sweet Escape (yes, we thought we were clever with the name), had started as a desperate dream. We saved every tip, took business classes at the community college, and practically lived on ramen to make it happen. Now it was our sanctuary, our victory.

The scars from my time in Dickson’s cell had faded to silver lines across my back, but they served as reminders. Never again would I let a man – wolf or human – define my worth. Finn’s rejection had once felt like the end of my world; now it seemed like a gift. Without it, I might never have discovered my own strength.

Ray, once despondent over our lost status, now radiated contentment. We don’t need a pack to be strong, she’d say proudly. We built our own.

And we had. Our little café had become a gathering place for other supernatural beings living in the human world. We never advertised it, but they could sense what we were, just as we could sense them. A vampire who worked night shifts at the hospital was a regular. A pair of fae sisters had a standing order for our lavender scones. We created something uniquely ours.

Nights were still hard sometimes. I’d wake up drenched in sweat, remembering the cold stone of my cell, the pain of losing my baby. Alisha would hear me and make tea, and we’d sit on our balcony watching the city lights, reminding each other that we were free.

“Do you ever regret it?” Alisha asked one evening, as we were closing up. “Leaving everything behind?”

I wiped down the last table, considering her question. “I regret not leaving sooner,” I finally answered. “I regret believing I needed a mate or a pack to be whole.”

She nodded, understanding in her eyes. We’d both been shaped by the pack’s rigid hierarchy, taught that our worth came from our service to others. Breaking free of those chains had been harder than breaking out of my cell.

The register dinged as she counted out the day’s earnings, marking another successful day. Looking out the window, I saw the sunset painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks. Somewhere out there, Dickson was probably still hunting for his runaway Luna, and Finn might occasionally wonder about his rejected mate. But their troubles couldn't reach us here, in the life we had built from nothing.

I touched the small key hanging around my neck— the one to our café, not a mate mark or pack symbol. This was real power: the kind you built yourself, the kind no one could take away.

“Ready to head home?” Alisha asked, holding up our deposit bag.

“Home,” I echoed, letting the word fill me with warmth. Not a pack house or a prison cell, but the cozy apartment we’d decorated ourselves, where no one could give us orders or question our choices.

As we locked up and walked down the street, I felt Ray stretch contentedly within me. We did it, she purred. We really did it.

Yes, we had. And any wolf who thought they could drag us back to that old life would learn just how strong we’d become. I wasn’t that broken Luna anymore, and I never would be again.