Page 105 of Kazimir

“Of what?”

A humorless laugh slipped out of me. “That’s the thing. It’s not one big dramatic thing. It’s a hundred little ones.” I set the mug down untouched. “Back home, I’m always somebody’s something. Bronc’s sister. Pearl’s daughter. The pack’s little sister. The one who helps at the diner, helps at the shop, fills in wherever. And I love them, I do, but…” I spread my hands helplessly. “I don’t know who I am when none of that’s attached.”

Lucia said nothing. She had a gift for silence that made a person keep talking without feeling pushed.

So I did.

“The men in the pack won’t touch me because of Bronc, which—fine, whatever, I get it. But it means I’ve spent my whole life half-seen. Not avoided because I’m ugly or difficult.” I snorted. “Though I can absolutely be difficult. Avoided because I’m inconvenient. Because I belong to somebody important before I ever get to belong to myself.”

That one landed hard enough that I had to look away for a second.

When I looked back, Lucia’s expression had shifted. Not soft exactly. But attentive in a more personal way.

“I’m tired of being the odd one out,” I admitted, fingers tapping against the edge of the counter before I made myself stop. “Everybody’s finding their place. Their mates. Their own lives. And I’m still standing in the corner trying not to look pathetic about it. I don’t want to wake up in ten years and realize I never once made a choice that was just mine.”

Lucia’s gaze held steady on mine. “And you believe staying here would be such a choice.”

“Yes.”

“Why Philadelphia?”

I huffed a laugh. “Because it sure as hell isn’t Dairyville.”

That actually got the faintest flicker of amusement out of her.

Then I sobered. “Because nobody here looks at me and sees Bronc first. Because this place is…” I searched for it and nearly gave up. “Bigger. Stranger. Meaner, probably. But it feels like somewhere a person could become something. And because when I was at Obsidian, I kept thinking…” I swallowed. “I kept thinking maybe there’s room for me somewhere in a world like that.”

Lucia tapped one manicured nail lightly against the papers. Once. Thinking.

“You have experience in customer service,” she said at last.

I blinked. “I do.”

“You understand inventory.”

“Yes.”

“You work with the public.”

“Every damn day.”

“And you are not easily intimidated.”

I grinned despite myself. “Depends on the intimidation. Plus, I have a degree in restaurant management.”

“Noted.”

She glanced down at the document on top of her stack, but I knew from the way her mind worked she was no longer reading a word of it. She was rearranging possibilities.

“Obsidian may suit you,” she said.

My heart kicked hard. “You mean that?”

“I do not generally say things I do not mean.” Lucia lifted her gaze again. “The club requires staff who can read a room, manage personalities, hold boundaries, and function under pressure. You have done all of that in less glamorous environments for years.”

I stared at her.

“You’d really help me?”