Page 2

T he funeral was over. The last handful of dirt had been tossed onto the casket, and the final words spoken beneath a sky too bright for grief.

Billie Ann stood there longer than the others, her hands cold despite the sunshine and her heart aching with a hollowness she hadn’t known was possible.

But now, like Davey always said, it was time to head back to the place that had been his home as much as anyone who walked through the doors of. ..Shift Faced.

He’d joked about it so many times over the years. “When I go, just put me in the ground and get your asses back here for a drink on me. That’s how I want it.”

And so, that’s exactly what they did.

The bar was full, the air thick with stories and laughter too loud for a day like this, but exactly how Davey would’ve wanted it. Everyone from Assjacket had shown up. They were elbow to elbow, raising glasses and telling tales.

Billie Ann stood behind the bar, her black shag-cut hair tucked behind one ear as she wiped a glass out of habit more than need. Her eyes scanned the room, her chest tight but full. It didn’t feel right, and yet... it did.

Mac gave her a slight nod from his spot near the jukebox, a beer in his hand. Radiantly and composed in a dark velvet dress, Zelda caught Billie’s eye and gave her a sad understanding wink.

Her eyes continued to sweep across the bar, taking in the familiar faces she’d grown up around, people who had laughed with Davey, fought with him, and even leaned on him. The place was packed, full of stories, memories, and quiet grief disguised with raised glasses.

Davey had been loved. Fiercely.

Her heart tugged painfully as she continued to scan the crowd, the weight of the loss pulling her chest tight. She dropped her gaze to the worn floorboards, swallowing hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill again. Not here. Not now.

“Billie.” A soft voice cut through the noise, and Billie looked up.

Macy stood on the other side of the bar, trying to smile but already losing the battle. Her chin trembled, her eyes red and watery as she pulled herself onto a stool like she had a hundred times before. But tonight, everything felt different.

“Hey, Macy,” Billie said gently, managing a small smile.

“I’m so sorry,” Macy whispered, her voice cracking as the tears spilled over.

Without thinking, Billie dropped the towel she’d been nervously wringing, walked around the bar, and pulled Macy into a tight hug. The kind that didn’t need words.

“Davey loved you like a daughter,” Billie said softly, her mouth close to Macy’s ear, just loud enough for her to hear over the hum of the bar. “And I loved that, because I always wanted a sister.”

Macy broke, burying her face in Billie’s shoulder as sobs shook her small frame. “I miss him so much,” she cried. “I just can’t believe he’s gone. It doesn’t feel real.”

Billie held her tighter, her own tears finally slipping free. “Me either,” she whispered. “But he’s still here. In this place, in us and every stubborn, sarcastic, kind thing we do.”

They stood like that for a long moment, two women wrapped in loss and love, surrounded by the very legacy Davey had left behind.

Macy had worked at Shift Faced ever since she was old enough to be in a bar.

She didn’t have a family. She was also a Crow Shifter who Davey took under his wing, so to speak, when her parents had been killed.

“What’s going to happen to this place?” Macy pulled away, asking, but before Billie could say anything, Mac walked to the middle of the bar, calling for everyone’s attention.

The door to the bar opened, but Billie Ann didn’t look at first, figuring it was someone late from the cemetery or someone trying to sneak in unnoticed. But then a strange energy shifted the room, subtle but unmistakable, and her eyes lifted to the entrance.

A tall, dark, and undeniably handsome stranger stepped through the doorway.

There was a calm, quiet power in the way he moved.

His long, dark hair was tousled, wind-swept from the mountain air, and his sharp jaw was shadowed with stubble.

He wore a black worn leather jacket that stretched over broad shoulders, and his boots thudded softly against the old floorboards.

He was a stranger. But not just any stranger. Something about him crackled in the air, something not quite human. Billie Ann’s breath caught. Her heart gave a little start.

Before she could look away, his eyes found hers. Dark, unreadable, and intense. She forced herself to blink and turned her attention to the stage where Mac, King of the Shifters, stepped up and raised his hand.

The crowd quieted instantly.

Mac’s chocolate-brown hair was pulled back at his neck, and even though his broad frame looked solid as ever, there was grief etched into his expression. Zelda, his delicate mate, stood just off to the side, her presence radiant and strong.

Mac cleared his throat. “Thank you all for being here today. Davey didn’t want a funeral full of tears and long speeches. He wanted this.” His arm stretched toward the crowd. “Family. Friends. Drinks. Stories. Laughter. I know he is smiling down at us today.”

A soft murmur of agreement rose.

“This bar meant everything to him. It was more than a business to him. It was a safe haven for those like us. A place where everyone, no matter what they were, could be themselves. He protected it like he protected all of us.”

Billie Ann’s eyes stung, and she glanced down, fighting the rush of emotion clawing up her throat.

“And now,” Mac continued, his voice softening, “he’s passed that torch.”

He turned his eyes to her, and everyone followed.

“This bar now belongs to Billie Ann Carter,” he said, pride and sadness threaded in his tone. “Davey left it all to her. And there’s not a soul here who would disagree that there’s no one better to carry on what he built.”

Applause broke out, gentle at first and then stronger. A few whoops followed, and a couple raised glasses. Zelda beamed at her.

Billie stood frozen as the reality sank in all over again. It was hers. The place that held her childhood, her love for the man who’d been more of a father than anyone ever had, and now her grief at losing him.

She glanced up through the mist of tears and found the stranger again. Still watching her. Who was he?

“The bar is staying open?” Macy’s eyes were wide with hope.

Billie Ann tore her gaze from the stranger to smile down at Macy. “Yes, Shift Faced is staying open.”

Wicked stepped forward first, her long, wild black hair cascading down her back like an untamed river.

There was a fire in her magic, mixed with mischief and wrapped in grace.

Wicked was a powerful witch who had always radiated confidence, even when she pretended she didn’t care.

Billie Ann had always admired that about her.

Thorne stood close, tall and steady, a quiet storm behind dark eyes.

A Panther Shifter through and through. He was dangerous when provoked, but fiercely loyal to the ones he loved.

The way his hand found the curve of Wicked’s back was unconscious, instinctive.

They were tied together by more than just affection.

There was history, a bond that couldn’t be broken, and it showed.

“You’ve got no idea how good it is to see your face,” Wicked said, pulling Billie Ann into a hug that smelled of herbs, ink, and something uniquely her. “You’ve been gone way too long.”

“It has been way too long,” Billie Ann murmured, holding on just a bit longer. When she pulled back, she grinned through the mist in her eyes.

“We’re sorry about Davey, Billie.” Wicked sniffed. “If you need anything at all, we are here for you.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.” She replied and meant it. “Where’s Bruce?” she asked, glancing around. The odd cat had always been more than just a pet. He was Wicked’s familiar and had somehow wormed his way into Billie’s heart too.

“Brooding in the tattoo shop,” Wicked replied with a roll of her eyes. “Said funerals make his fur fall out. He’s dramatic like that. The truth is, he’s a mess about Davey, just as we all are. He and Davey had a special friendship.”

Billie let out a soft laugh, tears returning anyway. “I missed that weird little pain in the ass.”

“Thorne,” Mac called out, lifting his chin and motioning him over to where he stood with Zelda and the stranger.

“I’ll be back,” Thorne said, kissing Wicked’s lips quickly before heading their way, his presence quiet but commanding as always.

Billie Ann’s gaze drifted immediately to the tall man beside Mac.

He stood just slightly apart, like he wasn’t sure if he belonged or didn’t care.

Long dark hair brushed his shoulders, and his features were rugged in a way that made her breath hitch.

He looked like trouble and comfort all rolled into one.

“Who is that?” she asked, leaning closer to Wicked. “I’ve never seen him before. Is he new in town?”

“I don’t know,” Wicked replied, one brow arched as she gave a low, appreciative whistle. “But he’s definitely looking at you.”

Billie Ann's eyes flicked up, and sure enough, the stranger’s eyes were locked on her. His gaze was intense and unapologetic, like he already knew her somehow. Heat crept up her neck as she quickly looked away, her fingers brushing the side of her neck where her pulse thudded.

“Macy, do you know him?” she asked, hoping for some kind of explanation.

“Unfortunately, no,” Macy sighed wistfully.

Both Billie Ann and Wicked looked at Macy, who was staring at the stranger, then glanced at each other before bursting into laughter.

“What?” Macy asked, clearly flustered. “He’s freaking hot.”

“God, I’ve missed you,” Billie Ann said with a soft chuckle, pulling her into a quick, heartfelt hug. It felt good to laugh and feel normal again, if only for a second.

But even as they shared that moment, her thoughts wandered back to the man across the room… and the way his eyes hadn’t left her.