Chapter 3. I Should Care, I Don’t

I sat at the bar, nursing my fifth drink of the day. The White Flag was a sleek, modern joint just outside pack territory, a haven for all supernaturals. The bar had a sophisticated vibe, with plush leather seats, ambient lighting, and a polished mahogany counter that gleamed under the soft glow of chandeliers. It was a place where everyone was welcome, as long as they followed the two rules: no fighting! And leave the drama at the door.

Around me, vampires, werewolves, and even a few fae mingled, their conversations a low hum of different languages and dialects. The air was filled with the scent of expensive colognes and perfumes, mixed with the unique musk of supernatural beings.

I took another swig of the bar's special liquor, a potent blend designed to get even the strongest werewolf drunk. It burned on the way down, but I welcomed the pain. It was better than the emptiness I felt inside. I missed Lottie. Each day without her felt like a fresh wound, an