Elara Wynn

I tried to calm myself, taking a deep breath even though my heart was beating far too fast to control. With clumsy steps, I returned to the VIP room, about to serve the fruit. But what I saw before me was nauseating.

The fruit knife had been moved—it now stood embedded in the left hand of the hooded man. The slightly curved blade looked sharper than a dagger. How was that even possible? Only a skilled hand could’ve done it.

I screamed without realizing it. Blood gushed from his hand, dripping from the table to the floor. My knees instantly went weak.

What had just happened?

A few seconds ago, as I re-entered the VIP room, Kael—somehow—grabbed the fruit knife and drove it through the back of the hooded man’s hand until it pierced the table. The scream of pain was piercing. No one dared to react, and I was the only one frozen in place, witnessing it all with wide, horrified eyes.

What was even more terrifying—Kael’s face and gaze were utterly expressionless as he did it. As if nothing had happened. As if he felt nothing.

The hooded man remained kneeling in front of Kael’s table, blood still pouring from his hand. He trembled, trying to pull out the knife, but Kael held it there longer.

“You’ve tainted the fruit, Maekar…” Kael hissed.

“Forgive me, Alpha. Give me another chance. I swear this won’t happen again.”

“You’ve… impersonated me and acted arrogantly everywhere. But you’ve produced nothing.”

“Please, forgive me! I promise I’ll find the woman this time, no matter what it takes.” Maekar whimpered in pain, and then Kael let him go.

He nearly collapsed to the floor. One of Kael’s betas stood up and yanked the knife from Maekar’s hand as if it were just a chopstick—effortless but agonizing. Then he tossed a handkerchief at him. The white cloth turned red instantly.

Kael’s gaze shifted to me—I was still frozen, paralyzed by fear.

“I-I’ll get you a fresh plate of fruit,” I said, trying to dodge his gaze.

He turned slowly, as if my tiny voice had disturbed an untouchable dominion.

“No need,” he murmured with a smile that never reached his eyes. “Sometimes, blood is harder to digest than dust.”

His eyes swept over me from head to toe. In this dim room filled with smoke and the stench of alcohol, surrounded by women in skimpy outfits—short skirts, exposed cleavage, bare skin displayed like goods—he was looking at me.

And I? I was bundled in a long white coat that even covered my neck. I looked like a snow doll… or a porcupine too scared to be touched.

“Pathetic. Can you sing?” he asked flatly, his voice echoing like a death whisper.

I nodded slowly. My body trembled, not from the cold... but because I knew that here, a single wrong move could cost my life. I feared he had already recognized me.

Kael seemed amused by my fear.

He raised a hand, curling his fingers like he was summoning something. “Shut the door and sing for me.”

I swallowed hard. I knew that wasn’t a request—it was a command.

I walked slowly past Atei, the cold-blooded dark-skinned man. I knew he was one of the men who had dumped a corpse with Kael in the woods that night. He had just finished the last of his wine and was now chewing on something I wasn’t sure was even food. The crunching sound from his mouth—like bones crushed raw.

I could barely breathe as I passed them. The air in that room was thicker than the Black Hollow fog.

And when I got closer to the fruit table, my arm accidentally brushed against Maekar’s back as he clutched his wounded hand. Instinctively, I recoiled. But then my eyes locked on Kael’s knife. Still wet. Still red. Still reeking of death.

“My legs…” I whispered, unable to stop the trembling that had taken over me.

My shaking hands dropped the fruit plate. Oranges, grapes, and apple slices scattered across the floor. Their vibrant colors created a nightmare-like illusion under the dim lighting.

I looked up—Kael’s stare pierced straight into my soul. His eyes, blue as the sky, pupils glowing faintly, reflecting something older than mankind.

Somehow, Kael was no longer on the sofa. He… was already behind me. The speed of an Alpha wolf—terrifying, unreadable, untouchable.

He crouched beside me. The fruit knife glittered in his hand as he spun it lightly. I wanted to run, but my legs refused to move.

“Obey,” he said softly—but it was a threat. “I asked you to sing, not serve fruit.”

The tip of the fruit knife began slicing through the bottom of my coat. The white foam lining floated like autumn snow. He didn’t hurry—he moved slowly, savoring my fear.

His hand tugged at the coat’s tie and the outer layer of my clothes, revealing my left shoulder. And there—was the tattoo.

I’d let my guard down. I’d allowed him to reveal my shoulder. This should not have happened. I resisted and yanked my clothes back over my shoulder. I didn’t care if he got angry or even stabbed the knife into me. That was better than letting someone see my body.

But to my surprise, he only gave a thin, cold smile and muttered, “The crescent moon curves into the shape of a howling she-wolf beneath the stars.”

He had just described my tattoo in full detail—the mix of silver and deep violet.

I heard him grit his teeth. “Where did you get this design? It’s ancient. Archaic.”

He narrowed his eyes, then traced the knife along the she-wolf's outline—from my shoulder down to my collarbone...

My skin turned pale. I wanted to scream, but the sound got stuck in my throat. My thoughts went to my friends, still being held captive by Ronan. I couldn’t die before I finished my mission.

Kael roughly pulled my clothing down again, baring my shoulder once more. He slid the knife tip until it hovered over a small scar—a gunshot wound that refused to heal.

Kael exhaled slowly. His throat bobbed, and I could feel the ancient Alpha instinct surfacing.

My body trembled violently. The knife felt like a countdown to death. I covered the tattoo with my right hand, trying to hide the scar that could get me killed. Does he know it’s me?

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

That voice—cold as wind from an old grave.

Of course I was afraid. Who wouldn’t be scared of a man who stabbed his subordinate’s hand like it was nothing? A man who killed in another’s territory and dumped the body? A man now hunting me down because I was the witness to his crime?

I couldn’t speak. But my body screamed louder than words—shaking, quivering, biting my lip until it bled.

Kael stood. His shadow loomed over me, swallowing the last light in the room. Then, the knife touched my neck. Not its point—but the cold side. Gentle… yet full of threat.

“Speak,” he hissed. “Now!”

Tears streamed down my cheeks. I pointed at Maekar, still slumped nearby. “I-I… I’m scared… Sir… You stabbed his hand… I’m scared…”

“That’s not what I want to hear from you. Where did you get the image on your shoulder? Do you even know what it means?”

I knew—responding in anger wouldn’t work. For some reason, I burst into uncontrollable sobs, even though that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted the tears to ruin my eyeliner and black eyeshadow. So that my makeup would smear, leaving behind a messy face that might disgust him—make him not recognize me.

“I… I saw it in a tattoo studio. So I picked it. Huhu…”

Kael’s gaze remained fixed. As if… he wasn’t seeing the mess on my face, but something deeper. He smiled. A smile without warmth—but with clarity. He whispered in my ear again.

“Maekar failed at his job. Therefore… his hand is useless.”

He looked sharply at me and continued—his voice low, slow, and enough to make my heart stop for a moment.

“By the same principle, Ugly Miss… if someone sees what they shouldn’t, or says something they mustn’t…” He leaned in, his face nearly touching my skin. “…what do you think I should do to them?”