The waiter hesitated, sensing tension, but Lorenz didn’t even glance at me. “Table for four,” he said casually, his voice smooth, alpha-calm.
“Right this way,” the waiter murmured, leading us to a table near the open grill, its flames licking the air. I knew this table well—once, it had been ours, a place where Lorenz had allowed me to share in his ritual of tasting and cooking the steak tableside. Back then, I had never realized it had originally been a tradition he had shared with Emily.
As the coals flared, Gritte stepped forward, tongs in hand, tail flicking in her subtle display of dominance. “I’m actually good at this,” she said, voice dripping confidence. “I only cook if I must, but let me show you.” She flipped the steaks expertly, the sizzle sharp in the air.
Everything seemed under control—until a flare of oil burst onto the coals. Emily startled, yipping in panic, and knocked the grill slightly. Embers leapt like fire spirits, scattering across the table.
Gritte dodged instinctively, fur bristling, but I wasn’t fast enough. Hot sparks landed on my arm and on Emily, both of us closest to the flames.