After dinner, she helped clear the table and gave her parents quick hugs before heading home. Rosa pressed a container of leftover cookies into her hands on her way to the door.
“For later,” she said. “And call me if you need to talk.”
Valeria’s apartment felt quiet after the warmth of her family’s house. She changed into oversized sweats and curled up on her couch with a glass of water, still too full from her mom’s cooking to think about the cookies. Family photos sat on the side table: her academy graduation, holiday dinners, summer barbecues. The pictures showed a happy family, but they couldn’t fill the silence that settled around her each evening.
The TV played mindlessly in the background while Valeria scrolled through her phone. Social media was a mistake, as always. Academy friends posting from other cities, other jobs. Engagement announcements. Career promotions. Everyone else seemed to have figured out their lives.
My family loves me, but they don’t understand the pressure. Dad and Gabriel are heroes in this town. I’m just trying not to screw up. Everyone my age is getting married, having kids, building careers. I can’t even write a traffic ticket without embarrassing myself.
An advertisement popped up while she scrolled: “Find Your Perfect Match.” The mate.com logo featured intertwined hearts and the tagline “All species welcome. True fated mates guaranteed!” Happy couples filled the banner image, all of them looking so complete, so certain of their place in the world. She’d been so busy with the academy and trying to prove herself at her job that the idea of a mate had been the last thing on her mind. Until now.
Her finger hovered over the ad. Before she could change her mind, she tapped it. The app downloaded quickly, and Valeria found herself staring at a sign-up form. Name, age, shifter type. She chose “grizzly bear” and selected a photo from her gallery, one that looked approachable but professional. Not too casual, not too serious.
The personality questionnaire was longer than she’d expected. Favorite color, dream vacation, how she handled conflict. Then a question appeared that made her laugh despite herself: “If you were a vegetable, what would you be?”
She thought for a moment, then typed “broccoli.” Strong, reliable, good for you even if not always appreciated. Her finger trembled as she hit submit. The screen changed, and the loading bar crept forward with agonizing slowness.
Results appeared. Low-percentage matches from other towns. Seventy-three percent from Portland. Eighty-seven percent from three states away. But no perfect match. No 100% fated mate was waiting for her.
Chapter
Three
Dom stretchedhis shoulders as he started to shut down the Steel Protection office for the night. The furniture was arranged, the equipment installed, and his pack had settled into their new quarters with the kind of efficient teamwork that came from five years on the road together. Everything was ready for Steel Protection’s first day of business tomorrow.
“Anyone else starving?” Blaze called from the common room. “That gas station beef jerky from this morning wore off about six hours ago.”
“What about that diner at the end of Main Street?” Ryder asked.
Dom nodded, fishing his motorcycle keys from his pocket. “Good idea.”
Within minutes, six Harley engines roared to life outside Steel Protection headquarters. Dom led the way down Main Street. The ride through Fate Mountain Village reinforced Dom’s positive first impression. Clean streets, well-maintained businesses, families strolling together. The kind of peaceful community that deserved protection.
The Fate Mountain Diner sat at the end of the street near the highway exit. Dom pulled into the parking lot, and his pack parked in a neat line around him. A bell chimed as they pushed through the front door, and the scents of bacon and apple pie filled the air. The interior matched the homey exterior with red vinyl booths, checkered floors, and artwork of local scenes covering the walls. Families occupied several tables, a couple shared dessert at the counter, and an elderly man worked on a crossword puzzle in the corner.
“Evening, folks,” a waitress called from behind the counter. “Sit anywhere you like.”
Dom led his pack to a large corner booth, and they settled in. The waitress approached with menus, her smile genuine and welcoming. “Evening, folks,” she said, handing out the menus. “Our special tonight is meatloaf with all the fixings.”
They opened the laminated menus, scanning the familiar comfort food options. Burgers, steaks, fried chicken, hearty sandwiches—the kind of simple, filling meals that reminded Dom of roadside diners across the country. Prices were reasonable, portions looked generous based on the photos, and everything sounded like exactly what they needed after a long day of moving equipment.
The waitress returned with her notepad. “What can I get you, folks?”
“Chicken fried steak,” Blaze said.
“Burger, medium rare,” Ryder added.
“I’ll take the meatloaf special,” Hunter said.
“Same,” Dom said.
“Fish and chips,” Axel said quietly.
Siren looked up from her menu. “Ribeye, medium rare.”
The waitress scribbled down their orders with practiced efficiency. “I’ll get those started for you.”
The diner’s bell chimed again, admitting six working men in their thirties and forties, their worn jeans and flannel shirts suggesting construction or ranch work. Dom noticed the shift in atmosphere. They had the loud, loose energy of people who’d been drinking, talking and laughing as they looked around for a table. But when their eyes landed on the corner booth, the laughter died. One of them said something under his breath, and suddenly all six men were staring at his pack.
