The Client from Nowhere (1)

The translation agency's neon sign flickered in the pre-dawn gray, casting pink and blue shadows across Ava Cole's desk—a desk that bore no trace of the name she'd been born with.

Three days.

Three days since the windows shattered. Three days since Maya saw the light she shouldn't have been able to see. Three days of Ava checking exits and watching rooftops and sleeping in shifts while Ronan's nightmares painted golden warnings across his skin.

The coffee maker gurgled in the corner. Outside, delivery trucks rumbled through streets still wet from overnight rain. Normal sounds. Human sounds.

Ava clung to them like a lifeline.

"You look like death warmed over."

Maya appeared in the doorway with two paper cups, her black hair still damp from her morning shower. She set the coffee down with the careful precision of someone handling explosives.

"Didn't sleep," Ava said.

"Again."

"Again."

Maya dropped into the chair across from her. "We need to talk about—"

The agency door opened.

The man who walked in wore a suit that cost more than Ava's monthly rent. Charcoal gray. Italian cut. The kind of tailoring that whispered old money and new power in the same breath.

Every instinct she'd honed in five years of hiding screamed that he was hunting something.

"Moon Translation Services?" His voice carried the particular confidence of men accustomed to being obeyed. "I'm looking for Ava Cole."

Ava's hand tightened around her coffee cup. "You found her."

He crossed the small office in three strides and extended his hand. "Griffin Stone. I represent clients with international interests who require... discrete translation services."

His palm was warm. Callused. The grip of someone who knew how to fight.

Ava released his hand quickly. "We handle standard document translation. Business contracts, technical manuals, that sort of thing."

"Perfect." Griffin produced a leather portfolio from his briefcase. "My clients are expanding operations into South America. They need someone who can handle Portuguese, Spanish, and English with complete confidentiality."

Maya leaned forward, eyes bright with interest. "We can definitely—"

"What kind of operations?" Ava cut in.

Griffin's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Import and export. The usual corporate necessities."

"The usual corporate necessities don't require this level of discretion."

"No," he agreed. "They don't."

Silence stretched between them. Outside, a siren wailed past.

Maya kicked Ava under the desk. "We're very interested, Mr. Stone. Can you tell us more about the timeline and compensation?"

Griffin opened the portfolio. The contract inside made Ava's breath catch.

Six months of income. For one project.

"This is too much," she said flatly.

"My clients value quality and discretion in equal measure." Griffin met her eyes, and for just a heartbeat, his pupils flashed gold.

Ava froze.

Wolf-gold. The telltale sign of a Lycan barely controlling their other nature.

He knew. He knew what she was, and he'd walked straight into her sanctuary wearing a suit and carrying contracts that smelled like a trap wrapped in money.

"Ms. Cole?" Griffin's expression remained perfectly professional. "Is there a problem?"

"No problem." Ava forced her voice steady. "I just prefer to understand my clients' expectations clearly before signing anything."

"A wise policy." He pulled a pen from his jacket. "I can answer any questions you have. How long have you been operating in Veridia?"

"Three years."

"And before that?"

"The midwest. Small town. You wouldn't have heard of it."

"Try me."

"Mr. Stone." Ava pushed the contract back across the desk. "I appreciate the offer, but I think our agency isn't the right fit for your needs."

Maya made a strangled sound. "Ava—"

"We're not the right fit," Ava repeated.

Griffin regarded her with the patience of a predator who knew his prey was cornered. "You haven't heard the full scope of the project."

"I don't need to."

"Ava, can I talk to you?" Maya's voice carried a sharp edge. "In the back? Now?"

Before Ava could refuse, the office door burst open again.

"Mama!"

Ronan barreled through the entrance, his backpack trailing behind him, daycare permission slip clutched in his small fist. "Mama, look! I drawed you a—"