Riley's POV
The familiar shout cuts through the noise of the crowded bar. "Lexi, table five needs service!" My manager's voice carries that edge of impatience I've grown accustomed to hearing. I force down the frustration that bubbles up every time I hear that fabricated name. Another city, another false identity, another piece of myself I have to bury deeper.
Six different establishments across three states, and counting. Each move calculated, each departure timed to perfection before anyone gets too comfortable asking questions. The nomadic lifestyle has become second nature, even if it tears at something fundamental inside me. Every mile I put between myself and the pack lands feels necessary, yet devastating.
Distance equals safety. Safety for everyone I left behind.
