The diner smelled like grease and desperation. Sienna wiped the counter for the third time in an hour. Two years of this. Two years of being no one. The bell above the door jingled. She didn't look up.
"Double cheeseburger, extra pickles."
She wrote it down without thinking. Invisible was safe. Her name tag read Elle. Selene died in a clearing two years ago, under a mocking moon, with her father's spit still wet on the ground.
"You okay, honey?"
The cook, Frank, watched her through the service window.
"Fine."
"You've been wiping that same spot for ten minutes."
She looked down. The counter was spotless.
"Take a break," Frank said. "Just stop scrubbing my counter into another dimension."
She grabbed her coffee and slipped out back. The alley smelled like garbage. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
"You're tired", said a voice that wasn't quite hers. Her wolf's ghost.
"I'm always tired."
"Then shift. Run"
"There is no wolf. There's just me and another shift tomorrow."
Silence. She'd gotten good at silencing the ghost.
The break lasted four minutes. Dinner rush was waiting. Table four needed refills. Table six wanted the check. Table nine had a kid who'd spilled milk everywhere. Selene moved through it like a machine, pour coffee, wipe table, smile, nod, clean milk and by the time her shift ended, her mind was blessedly empty.
She changed, pulled on a hoodie, and walked into the night. The city was loud, sirens, laughter, bass from a club. Humans everywhere, wrapped in their human problems, unaware that monsters walked among them.
Selene walked with her head down. Her apartment was a gray box between a laundromat and a bodega. Four floors. No elevator. Her unit was at the end of the hall, small enough to touch both walls. She unlocked the door and stepped inside without turning on the light.
She crossed to the window and looked out at the brick wall three feet away. Somewhere beyond the city, the Blood moon Pack gathered under the same moon that had abandoned her.
"Stop, she told herself. Stop thinking about them".
She never could.
The laptop wheezed to life on her tiny kitchen table. She opened her email. Spam. Bill reminder. Spam. And one from a name she didn't recognize.
"Valkor Industries. Executive Assistant Position. Application Received".
She'd applied two weeks ago, half drunk on cheap wine and reckless hope. A billion-dollar corporation hiring assistants. She had no degree, no real references but she had skills they didn't know about. Hacking, surveillance, pattern recognition, things you picked up with no pack and too much time.
The email was short:
"Ms. Ross, your application has been reviewed. We would like to invite you for an interview on Thursday at 10 a.m. Twelfth floor. Bring an identification".
Selene read it three times. Ross. That was her name now. Elle Ross. Human, ordinary and Valkor Industries wanted to interview her. She should have felt excited. Instead, something cold slid down her spine. Valkor Industries. She'd done her research before applying. A big, rich, powerful company buying up land all over the region. Land that included the territory of the Blood moon Pack.
Coincidence? Selene didn't believe in coincidence anymore.
She spent two days preparing. The identity was solid, birth certificate, social security number, rental history, carefully crafted social media posts. Elle Ross was a ghost made flesh.
Selene practiced her story in the mirror until she believed it.
Where did you grow up? Small town in the Midwest.
Family? No. I'm on my own.
Why Valkor Industries? Because I'm hungry. The last part was true.
Thursday morning arrived cold and gray. Selene wore her best outfit, black slacks, white blouse, sensible heels, all thrift store finds. She looked professional, capable, human. The Valkor Tower rose above the city like a monument to ambition. Forty stories of glass and steel. Selene stood across the street for a full minute, just looking.
"You can do this". She told herself
The lobby was overwhelming, marble floors polished to mirror shine, a reception desk the size of her apartment. People in suits moved with purpose. She approached security. The guard was young, bored.
"Elle Ross. Ten a.m. interview."
He scanned his tablet. "ID?"
She slid her fake license across the counter. He glanced at it, handed it back.
"Twelfth floor. Elevators to your left."
The elevator was full of expensive perfume and quiet ambition. Selene pressed into the corner and counted heartbeats.
Patricia from HR was efficient and bored. She handed Selene a visitor's badge.
"Conference room C. Mr. Valkor will see you now."
Selene's heart stuttered. Mr. Valkor. The man himself.
"I thought I'd interview with HR first."
"He likes to meet candidates personally. Down the hall, last door on the right."
Selene walked. The hall was long, lined with abstract art. Conference room C was at the end, door slightly ajar. She could see him before he saw her.
Damon Valkor stood at the window, back to the door. Taller than photos suggested. Broader. The suit was expensive, tailored to a body that spent time in a gym.
Selene's ghost stirred. "No. He's human. Focus".
She knocked.
"Enter."
His voice was low. Cold. She stepped inside, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. His eyes were blue. Not soft. Glacial. The kind of blue that belonged on a frozen lake, beautiful and deadly. His jaw was sharp enough to cut. His mouth was set in a line that suggested he didn't use it for smiling. He looked at her. Something flickered in those frozen eyes. Interest. Maybe recognition, impossible. They'd never met.
"Sit down."
She sat. He walked around the table and took the chair across from hers. Close. Too close. He filled the space between them like a predator.
"Elle Ross."
"Yes."
"You applied directly. Why?"
She'd prepared an answer about professional development. Instead, she told the truth.
"Because you're winning. I want to be on the winning side."
His eyes narrowed. "Most people lie in interviews. You're either very honest or very stupid."
"I'm neither."
"Then what are you?"
Hungry. Broken. Dangerous.
"Qualified."
She slid her resume across the table. He didn't look at it. He was watching her, watching through her like he could see the cracks.
"You're nervous," he said.
"I'm not."
"Your pulse is elevated. Your pupils are dilated. You're afraid of me."
I'm afraid of what you're making me feel.
"I'm focused. There's a difference."
Something shifted in his expression. Interest but something else too. Something that looked almost like hunger.
"Tell me about yourself, Elle Ross."
The name sounded wrong in his mouth. Like he knew it was borrowed.
"Small town in the Midwest. No family. I've been working since I graduated."
"No friends either?"
"I work."
He leaned back, studying her. "Why are you alone, Elle?"
The question hit like a blade. She kept her face smooth.
"Aren't we all, eventually?"
Something flickered in his eyes. Something raw and wounded beneath the ice. Then it was gone.
He stood and walked to the window. "You start Monday. Six a.m. Don't be late."
Selene blinked. "That's it? No background check?"
He looked over his shoulder. "I don't need a background check. I know exactly what you are."
Her blood turned cold.
"Ambitious," he said. "Hungry. Willing to say anything to get what you want. I can use that. Don't prove me wrong."
She stood on shaking legs and walked to the door. Her hand was on the handle when he spoke again.
"Elle."
She didn't turn.
"Monday. Six a.m. Don't make me wait."
She left without answering. The elevator ride was a blur. The lobby was a blur. She walked four blocks before she stopped, pressed against a building wall, trying to breathe.
"He knows", the ghost whispered.
"He knows nothing. He thinks I'm ambitious".
"Then why are you shaking?"
Selene had no answer. She pushed off the wall and kept walking. Back toward her tiny apartment. Back toward her life as Elle from the diner. But something had changed. She didn't know what. She only knew that when she closed her eyes, she saw glacial blue eyes looking back at her. And her ghost, her dead, silent ghost was stirring.