Morgan’s POV

The neon sign flickered above the door, spilling crimson light onto the wet pavement. Music pulsed from inside, a deep, predatory rhythm that vibrated through the walls.

Tim pushed the door open first, the heavy bass washing over them. The air was thick with the smell of whiskey, perfume, and wolves.

This wasn’t an ordinary club, it was one of the exclusive dens where high-ranking Alphas came to drown their dominance in liquor and women.

Inside, gold chandeliers shimmered over ...