Romance

  Aurora &#39;s Perspective
  Pushing open the door to &quot;The Propeller&quot; felt like stepping into the stomach of another world.
  The noise hit first—an avalanche of sound. The clatter of glasses, slurred shouts, the sharp *crack* of pool balls, all underpinned by a complex odor of stale beer, sweat, cheap tobacco, and something sharper no amount of air freshener could mask. The air was thick, the lighting artfully dim, providing just enough visibility while hiding most faces and transactions.
  My wolf senses were on overload. The smells were overwhelming. The sour tang of fermentation, the burn of cheap liquor, the greasy scent of human bodies, and… kin. More than one. Their scents were mostly murky, feral, carrying the gunpowder-stink of street-level struggle, raw desire, or simply numb apathy. The so-called dark creatures or stray wolves.
  A few pockets radiated considerable 

  Aurora &#39;s Perspective
  The car sped along the road back to the estate. Outside, the city lights streamed by like a cold, distant galaxy. Lex drove in focused silence, throwing me the occasional worried glance. The only sounds were the engine&#39;s low growl and the hiss of the heater.
  The lead from Marta was like a rusty fishhook lodged deep in my mind. A sliver of hope, vanishingly small, yet impossible to ignore. Wait for Marta&#39;s people to make discreet inquiries? Wait for that junkie who might never wake up coherent? Every passing second felt like another weight added to the scales of whatever torment Brett might be enduring. The image of Uncle Jacob&#39;s bloodshot eyes and Aunt Selena&#39;s silently trembling shoulders wouldn&#39;t leave me.
  A frantic, burning anxiety churned in my gut, hotter than the alcohol I&#39;d consumed. I stared at the faint glow of my phone s

  Aurora &#39;s Perspective
  The hot shower washed away the last chemical traces of the lab from my skin. My own soft pajamas felt foreign. I should have been relaxing, but I wasn&#39;t. Every muscle screamed for rest, while my brain whirred like a computer forced into a reboot—overloaded, frantic. Brett&#39;s face, Uncle Jacob&#39;s eyes dimming with instant despair, Aunt Selena&#39;s silently trembling shoulders… these images bombarded me, hurting more than any physical wound.
  I couldn&#39;t do it. I couldn&#39;t lie in my safe bed and pretend everything would be okay.
  I threw on a thick robe, my hair still dripping, and rushed downstairs. Light spilled from the slightly ajar door of the family&#39;s small conference room, along with the murmur of tense conversation and the heavy scent of cigar smoke—a sure sign my dad was under extreme stress. I took a breath and pushed the door 

Aurora &#39;s Perspective
  Pushing open the door to &quot;The Propeller&quot; felt like stepping into the stomach of another world.
  The noise hit first—an avalanche of sound. The clatter of glasses, slurred shouts, the sharp *crack* of pool balls, all underpinned by a complex odor of stale beer, sweat, cheap tobacco, and something sharper no amount of air freshener could mask. The air was thick, the lighting artfully dim, providing just enough visibility while hiding most faces and transactions.
  My wolf senses were on overload. The smells were overwhelming. The sour tang of fermentation, the burn of cheap liquor, the greasy scent of human bodies, and… kin. More than one. Their scents were mostly murky, feral, carrying the gunpowder-stink of street-level struggle, raw desire, or simply numb apathy. The so-called dark creatures or stray wolves.
  A few pockets radiated considerable strength, even hints of blood, but a tense, mutual understanding held sway here. No one started tr

Chapter 265