"Like a dream," Beth said, her lips curling into a soft smile. "I wish you all could've seen her."
"Next time, get it on video." Alice raised her glass in a mock toast.
"Sure thing," Beth chuckled, clinking her glass against Alice's. "For your eyes only."
"Did you tell her to be careful?" Daniel's voice cut through the clinking of cutlery and low hum of dinner conversations.
"Of course," Beth replied, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "We warned her to tell the other unicorns, how some have been targeted lately."
"It didn't seem like she knew much though." Wade leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"Did she tell you anything else?"
"Something about warnings." Beth paused as if choosing her words carefully. "The herd's been signaling each other. They're sensing something dark, something mysterious in the woods."
"Dark and mysterious?" Henry asked.
"Could be nothing. Could be something." Beth shrugged, but her face told me she didn't believe it was nothing.
The front door opened with a soft jingle, cutting through our talk of dark woods and mysterious warnings. New patrons stood in the warm ambiance of Bon Appétit. I looked up to see Jamur Hede striding in, his arm wrapped around a pretty blonde woman like he was showing off a prize.
"Isn't that..." Beth started, her voice trailing off as she caught my eye.
"Yeah." The staff seated them at a table uncomfortably close to ours. The woman laughed at something Jamur said, flipping her hair back in a move that looked practiced.
Beth's eyes narrowed just slightly, a silent signal between us. She subtly nodded toward them, and I understood the unspoken message: Keep watch.
"Who's that with him?" Bryan asked, craning his neck for a better look.
"I’m guessing that’s Broth’s main squeeze," I replied evenly. "But let's not let it ruin our night."
"Right," Beth agreed, though her gaze lingered on Jamur and his companion for a moment longer before turning back to our group. But from the corner of my eye, I could tell she, like me, was still keeping an eye on them.
We enjoyed the rest of our dinner until Jamur interrupted it yet again.
"Excuse me—I asked for the Château Lafite Rothschild '82. This isn't it."
I glanced over to see Jamur Hede standing, his chair pushed back abruptly enough to send a shudder down the table legs. The waitress, a slight figure compared to Jamur's bulk, clasped her hands in front of her apron, her eyes wide and apologetic.
"Sir, I'm terribly sorry," she stammered. "We don't have that particular bottle anymore. May I suggest?—"
"I know you have it," Jamur insisted, his voice climbing an octave in fury. "You always keep a reserve. Check again."
The waitress bit her lip, looking toward the kitchen as if hoping for an escape. "Our stock has changed, sir. The wine list we provided?—"
"Are you incompetent or just plain stupid?" Jamur's face reddened, his mustache twitching with each word spat out. "Check your damn cellar!"
Around us, forks paused mid-air, heads turned. The woman accompanying Jamur shifted uncomfortably, her smile slipping.
The waitress's shoulders slumped. A single tear trailed down her cheek, catching the soft light before disappearing into the fabric of her uniform.
The tension around our table was thick, a big change from the laughter that had filled the air moments ago. Daniel's chair scraped against the floor as he stood, his face a mix of anger and concern.
"Sit down," I whispered. My voice didn't waver, though inside, my stomach knotted. "I've got this."
He eyed me, hesitating, but I met his gaze squarely. I didn't need him charging in, not when I could handle it just fine. And much more quietly.
"Emma—" he started, but I cut him off.
