Page 17 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

“You had the last muffin earlier!” He shoved some into his mouth, speaking around it. “Besides, I deserve this after that thing with the—”

“If you mention that one more time—”

“It was literallymassive!Like, the size of a Range Rover!”

I’d been completely forgotten. Almost hilariously so. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

They squabbled over the sourdough, weighing up how much they could eat before someone called Kit arrived to take it all for himself.

And I stood there, ignored, feeling like I’d somehow stumbled into a very strange dream. Sebastián pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath.

“It was a labrador, Rory.”

“Apossessedlabrador! That thing was proper demonic!”

A loud clatter broke through their bickering. I spun around to find another dude frozen in the doorway. He looked like he could be Korean, or partially at least. A puddle of liquid spread around his feet from a dropped energy drink. His oversized hoodie swallowed his frame. Dark eyes darted between me and the others.

“Felix!” Rory said brightly. “Want some bread? Hopefully no.”

Felix’s mouth opened and closed without sound. His eyebrows drew together in what looked like rising panic.

Because it seemed like nobody else was going to move, and because I didn’t want to keep standing there like a lemon, I crossed the room and scooped up Felix’s can, pressing it back into his hands.

“I… um… thanks.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he scratched the back of his neck.

Rory sniggered for a second before clearing his throat.

The woman in purple stepped forward, extending her hand with a warm smile. “I’m Priya. I’m sorry about everyone else—they haven’t been properly socialised.” Her handshake was firm, the faintest scent of lavender following her. As I tried to withdraw my hand, she twisted it, bringing my palm towards her face. Her dark eyes traced the lines etched across my skin with intense focus.

“Well,that’srather unexpected. Have you ever had your palm read? These life lines suggest—”

“Right, that’s enough.” Sebastián’s command caused Priya to drop my palm before she could announce whatever fate she’d seen written there.Thank the stars.I didn’t want to know my future. “Don’t you all have work to do? But first, Priya, can you bring Flynn one of your chamomile teas? As soon as possible, please.”

“The kettle’s already boiled, so it’ll be just a sec!” she said brightly, skipping up the stairs.

The other two also vanished somewhere, and Sebastián guided me to a corner of the basement, where an L-shaped burgundy sofa wrapped around a scarred coffee table, creating a makeshift living area. I perched on the end of the sofa while he slung his massive coat on a hook.

A sleek coffee machine sat on a sidebar. Someone had taped a note to it reading “OUT OF ORDER (Kit, stop trying to fix it, nobody wants you to)” with several angry faces drawn underneath.

I gestured to the note. “So… Kit’s not great with repairs then?”

Sebastián’s lips twitched. “Oh, he’s not bad at all, actually. He served in the military for a couple of years and picked up many handy skills.It’s that the others don’t want it fixed. They like the excuse to go to that coffee shop on Killigrew Street we just passed. Kit claims it’s ‘highway robbery.’”

I found myself grinning, despite everything. “My mum says the exact same. Says she can buy a whole jar of coffee.”

Sebastián laughed—a rich, velvety sound that seemed to chase away some of the basement’s chill. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t tell Kit this, but after the last time he fixed it, Rory snuck down in the middle of the night and attacked it with a butter knife.”

The mental image made me snort. “Seriously?”

“Felix caught him on the security cameras. He was wearing all black, an official coffee machine saboteur.” Sebastián’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “We have the footage saved somewhere. For leverage.”

As I sank back, the sofa cushions molded perfectly to my body, and I felt… almostcozy.Like I’d walked into someone’s slightly chaotic family home rather than a secret underground lair. My shoulders began to unknot, even as my brain screamed that this was definitely how horror films started—luring you into a false sense of security before the chainsaws came out. “Dedication to the cause. I like Rory’s style.”

Priya burst back into the basement like a whirlwind of purple fabric and jangling bracelets, a steaming mug clutched between her hands. The scent of chamomile and something sweeter—honey, maybe?—wafted toward me.

“Here you go.” She pressed the warm ceramic into my palms. “My own special blend. This will make you feel amazing,” she tossed over her shoulder, already heading back towards the stairs.

My fingers curled around the mug gratefully, the heat seeping into my skin as I inhaled the aromatic steam. When I took a sip, warmth bloomed across my tongue, spreading through my chest like liquid sunshine, chasing away the last lingering traces of that horrid ice in my chest.

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