My editor didn't waste much time after that.

  He asked a few quick questions, wrote down a few notes, and then leaned back in his chair with the same expression he always got when a story started turning into something bigger than expected.

  "This could be something," he said.

  "I told you," I replied. "You can't think straight in there."

  He nodded slowly.

  "Then go back."

  I grimaced.

  "I figured you'd say that."

  He slid a small notepad toward himself and scribbled something down before tearing the page free.

  "Meet me at Sasha's Bakery next Tuesday," he said. "Bring me more."

  "More what?"

  "Details," he replied simply.

  He tapped the paper once.

  "And proof if you can get it."

  The meeting was over.

  Just like that.

  So I left.

  The newsroom buzzed behind me as I stepped back onto the street, the late afternoon light stretching shadows across the sidewalk. The plan was simple enough now.

  Go home.

  Write down everything while it was still fresh.

  Figure out how to go back to the Blood Bank without getting killed.

  Instead, my feet carried me somewhere else entirely.

  I didn't even realize it at first.

  Not until the familiar neon sign came into view at the corner.

  Willow's.

  The diner sat exactly where it always had, tucked between a hardware store and a laundromat that had been broken for most of the last decade. The windows glowed warm against the gray street, the smell of coffee and fried food drifting faintly through the air every time the door opened.

  My brother and I used to come here all the time.

  Before everything.

  Before he left.

  Before vampires and politics and stupid articles that ruined lives.

  I stood there for a moment longer than I meant to.

  Then I pushed the door open.

  The small bell above it chimed softly.

  Inside, the diner looked almost exactly the same as it had ten years ago. Red vinyl booths lined the walls, the counter stretching along one side with spinning stools that squeaked whenever someone shifted their weight.

  Willow herself wasn't behind the counter anymore.

  She was pushing seventy these days and spent more time in the back office than on the floor.

  Her daughter Rae ran the place now.

  Still, the diner smelled the same.

  Coffee.

  Grease.

  Fresh pancakes.

  Comfort.

  I slid quietly into a booth near the window and glanced around the room.

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  For the first time all day, the world felt almost normal

  I had barely been sitting for a minute when Rae spotted me.

  She moved the way people who grew up in diners always do, weaving between tables with a coffee pot in one hand and a stack of menus tucked under the other arm. Her dark hair was tied back loosely, a pencil stuck behind her ear like she'd forgotten it was there.

  When she reached my booth, she stopped.

  For a second she just looked at me.

  Then she slid into the seat across from me.

  Not beside the table.

  Across from me.

  Which meant she wasn't here to take an order.

  She was here to talk.

  "You look like hell," Rae said.

  I let out a small breath.

  "Good to see you too."

  She poured coffee into the mug sitting in front of me anyway, pushing it closer with a quiet scrape against the table.

  "You're drinking this," she said.

  I wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the heat sink into my fingers.

  Rae leaned back slightly, studying my face.

  "You heard already," I said.

  She nodded once.

  "Small town," she replied. "People talk."

  I stared down into the coffee.

  "Church?" I asked quietly.

  "My brother goes," Rae said. "You know that."

  Yeah.

  I knew.

  He was there every Sunday, sitting two rows behind Pastor Eric with the rest of the men who liked to pretend they ran the place.

  "So you heard," I said again.

  Rae nodded.

  "They said you were seen at the Blood Bank."

  The words landed softly, but they still made my stomach twist.

  I took a slow sip of the coffee.

  It tasted strong and bitter.

  Perfect.

  "I needed the money," I said.

  Rae didn't react.

  She just watched me.

  "It's just blood," I added.

  The explanation sounded weaker out loud than it had in my head.

  "We give it away for free every month anyway."

  Rae's fingers tapped lightly against the table.

  "That's not what people are upset about," she said.

  I knew that.

  Of course I did.

  They weren't mad about the blood.

  They were mad about who it went to.

  I stared down at the coffee again.

  "People like being angry," I muttered.

  Rae sighed quietly.

  "Yeah," she said.

  Then she leaned forward slightly.

  "But you didn't come here to talk about church gossip."

  Her eyes narrowed just a little.

  "What really happened, Allysia?"

  I stared into the coffee for a long moment.

  Rae didn't rush me.

  She never had.

  The diner hummed quietly around us, plates clinking in the distance and someone laughing near the counter. It was the kind of normal noise that made everything feel almost safe again.

  Almost.

  "I lost my job," I said finally.

  That part wasn't a lie.

  Rae nodded slowly.

  "I heard."

  "I needed money," I continued, wrapping both hands around the mug. "So I went to the Blood Bank."

  Also true.

  Her eyes didn't leave my face.

  "And?"

  I took a breath.

  "That's where I saw Cazaro."

  Her brow lifted slightly.

  "You mean the Cazaro?"

  I gave a small shrug.

  "Apparently."

  "What happened?"

  I hesitated.

  This was where the truth started bending.

  "He took a liking to me," I said.

  Technically... not wrong.

  "But nothing happened," I added quickly. "I didn't sleep with him or anything."

  Another careful half-truth.

  "I just... ended up at his house."

  Rae blinked.

  "You what?"

  "He wanted to talk," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "About the article."

  Her expression didn't change, but she leaned back slightly in the booth.

  "And you just went?"

  "I figured it was safer than refusing."

  That part was definitely true.

  I rubbed my temple lightly, the headache still lingering.

  "In the morning he and his brother walked me home," I continued. "We were literally just talking about how I didn't want anything from them when Zane showed up."

  Rae snorted quietly.

  "Yeah, that sounds like Zane."

  "He lost it," I said.

  That was the one part I didn't need to exaggerate.

  Rae shook her head slowly.

  "Of course he did."

  I frowned.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  She looked at me like I'd just said something incredibly obvious.

  "Allysia."

  "What?"

  Rae leaned forward slightly.

  "He's in love with you."

  The words hit the table like a dropped glass.

  I stared at her.

  "What?"

  "Oh come on," she said. "You seriously didn't notice?"

  I blinked.

  Zane?

  No.

  That didn't make any sense.

  Did it?

  I shook my head immediately.

  "It doesn't matter."

  Rae raised an eyebrow.

  "He was a complete asshole," I said, the anger from earlier rising again. "And I'm not forgiving him any time soon."

  The memory of his voice came back sharp and clear.

  Blood whore.

  My stomach twisted again.

  Rae nodded slowly.

  "Fair."

  She leaned back in the booth, arms folding loosely as she watched me.

  "The church though..." she muttered.

  I glanced up.

  "They're a bunch of idiots."

  The bluntness caught me off guard.

  "But," she continued, lifting one finger slightly, "they're idiots who run half the town."

  I knew that.

  Pastor Eric might have spoken about faith and forgiveness every Sunday, but the church controlled more than sermons. Business connections, community support, who people hired, who they trusted.

  And who they shut out.

  "So be careful," Rae added.

  "I don't exactly have a choice now," I said.

  She tilted her head slightly.

  "You always do."

  I snorted quietly.

  "Not really."

  Rae glanced around the diner for a moment before leaning a little closer across the table.

  "We don't refuse anyone service here," she said.

  "Anyone?"

  "Anyone."

  Her voice lowered slightly.

  "Even vampires."

  That surprised me.

  "You serve them?"

  "Of course."

  I frowned.

  "I thought the church hated that."

  "They do."

  Rae shrugged.

  "But vampires run the government whether people like it or not."

  The statement landed with quiet certainty.

  "So," she continued, tapping the table lightly, "we might as well make money off it."

  I stared at her.

  "That's your business philosophy?"

  "Pretty much."

  Despite everything, a small laugh slipped out of me.

  Rae grinned slightly.

  "See?" she said. "You're already doing better than when you walked in."