The sun sank low, turning the sky orange over the Rusty Anchor, an outdoor club near the city's edge. Twinkling lights hung over wooden tables, music thumped from a small stage, and the air smelled of burgers and beer. Ethan Nicolas rolled up, looking sharp—dark hair messy over bright green eyes, a trouble-making grin on his face. He wore a crisp white shirt, black jeans, and a leather jacket that screamed cool. Jake Ruso trailed him—tall, quiet, sharp-eyed, Ethan's right-hand guy, in a dark hoodie and jeans.
Ethan had plans—Claire from accounting for lunch tomorrow, Tara from design for drinks tonight. Last week, he'd messed with a couple here—slipped a fake "he's cheating" note to the girl, Jake smirking beside him. Tonight, they saw them by the bar—her yelling, him waving his arms. Ethan sipped his beer, chuckling. "Still going," he said low. Jake nodded, grinning. "Nice move." Breaking love was Ethan's game, and Jake was in on it.
Ava Francis showed up, dragged by a friend from her old job. Her dark hair hung loose, freckles popped under the lights, and her easy vibe cut through the crowd. She didn't expect Ethan—his green eyes shining, laughing with Tara, who stuck close. Jake lounged nearby, sipping a drink, watching. Ava squinted, curious. This guy was everywhere.
"Hey, boss," she called, walking up with a soda.
Ethan turned, flashing a big grin. "Ava—didn't think you'd hit clubs."
"Friend dragged me," she said, shrugging. "You here a lot?"
"Sometimes," he said, eyes glinting. "Beats sitting around."
Tara giggled, leaning in. "He's the party king." Jake smirked, adding, "Keeps it alive." Ava nodded, watching—Ethan's charm felt too slick. She saw the couple at the bar—the girl stormed off. Ethan's grin twitched, like he knew why. Jake tipped his glass, quiet. Ava tilted her head but didn't ask.
Ethan's phone buzzed—his mom, Linda. "Ethan, you home?" she asked, sweet. "Dad's messing with the car." Tom yelled, "Get here, hotshot!"
Ethan chuckled. "Out with Jake and friends, Mom—soon." He hung quick. Full moon tomorrow—he'd skip their place or claws might pop out mid-talk.
Ethan strolled over, Jake and Tara behind. "Checking me out?" he asked Ava, smirking.
"Nope," she said, sipping her soda. "Just passing by." She bumped his arm—spilled his drink on his boots. "Oops—my bad."
He laughed, shaking it off, jacket still cool. "You're trouble, Ava." Jake grinned, staying quiet.
"You're in the way," she shot back, smiling. Tara huffed, pulling Ethan's arm. Ava stepped off, watching them hit the dance floor—Jake leaned on a table, eyeing the crowd. Ethan was too smooth—too perfect. The guy from the bar stomped by, muttering about "some jerk." Ava frowned—Ethan's laugh rang out, sharp, Jake nodding along.
Her friend waved her over, but Ethan's phone buzzed again—a low, growly hum from WolfSnap. He shoved it in his pocket, hand twitching—claws flickered under his grip. Jake glanced over, but Ethan clenched it, eyes flicking to the woods past the deck. Something moved—quick, gone. His grin dropped for a second. Ava missed it, but Ethan felt it—trouble was near, and it wasn't just the spill.
To be continued...