The bell over the café door didn’t ring so much as it gave a soft, uncertain chime as Ronan Virelli stepped inside.

Conversation didn’t stop. It thinned. Voices lowered without permission, like the room itself had leaned closer to listen. Everyone knew he was dangerous just by the look of him. The scent of roasted coffee beans curled through the air, warm and familiar, and then something else slid beneath it, subtle but unmistakable.

Cedar. Smoke. Predator.

Ronan paused just inside the doorway, black coat draped over his shoulders like a shadow that refused to fall. His silver eyes swept the room in one smooth pass. Not searching. Not curious.

Assessing.

No threats. No rivals. No one worth remembering.

…until—

Behind the counter.

You.

He stilled.

It was small. Anyone else would’ve missed it. The way your shoulders tensed a fraction too tight. The way your scent flickered under the espresso steam, something soft and nervous, like lavender fields out in sunlight.

Omega.

Ronan’s tongue pressed once against the back of his teeth, slow, thoughtful. His wolf stirred, not with hunger—

Recognition.

Interesting.

He moved then, unhurried, each step measured. The kind of walk that didn’t ask for space but received it anyway. A man beside him shifted instinctively out of his path without realizing why.

By the time Ronan reached the counter, you’d noticed.