ELARA'S POV.

All that glitters isn’t gold, right?

But this place was.

It was more than just a venue; it was dazzling. Every surface gleamed as though polished by sunlight itself, mirrors catching chandeliers until the whole room shimmered like a living jewel box. Gold railings, silk drapes, glass that sparkled like cut diamonds. It wasn’t just wealth—it was a declaration of dominance.

This was no ordinary club. It was opulent, yes, but it carried an edge that unsettled me. The people weren’t simply rich. They moved with a predatory grace, eyes too sharp, too territorial. Their laughter didn’t warm—it sliced. The air glittered with the same dangerous beauty, a beauty with sharp teeth.

A shiver crept down my spine, instinctive, primal.

I shook it off, clutching the strap of my bag tighter. The black envelope inside felt heavier than it should, like it was searing through the leather, burning my skin with its presence. A shot of liquid courage was in order.

I made my way to the bar, every step echoing on the marble like I was being watched—which I was.

“Ma’am, you’d like a glass of spiked Martini?” The bartender’s voice was polite, his white gloves immaculate.

I slid onto the stool, my eyes still scanning the glittering crowd. They were all too elegant, too deliberate. I almost didn’t hear him the second time.

“Ma’am? A Martini?”

“Martini? Ummm... no. Something stronger.” I finally turned to face him, needing a burn down my throat more than a delicate sip.

A shadow shifted behind me.

“What then would a fine little Miss Elara…....Vance, I presume it is, have while at the Silver Crescent Club?”

The name, it hit me like a physical blow. Vance.

I froze, every muscle locking before I forced myself to turn.

He leaned against the bar with casual arrogance, the kind of cocky build that knew it could command a room. His presence bent the air around him. Cocky yet oppressive. The lop-sided smile on his lips was infuriating, mocking, assured. He lifted a tumbler lazily, amber liquid swirling in crystal.

“Nice to finally meet you in person,” he said, eyes dragging over me with slow, blunt appraisal. “Not bad of a figure you’ve got on you. Like I said, worthy of our attention. Your services are…...direly required, my love.”

He??

Everything about him felt wrong. I couldn’t place it—was it the calm arrogance, the way his voice slid like a knife? Confidence drained from me, my skin prickling under his stare.

“Services?” I repeated, venom wrapped in the single word.

“Yes. Your services are quite needed, Miss Elara Vance.”

There it was again. My name. My blood ran cold. He knew. He knew everything. The envelope’s seal, the family name I tried to bury, not because it was a shame but for all the memories it brought in with it. None of it was safe here.

Breathing hard to keep my heartbeat from spiralling, I yanked the envelope from my purse and slapped it on the bar between us. Getting to action. The suspense wasn’t what I came here for, I needed answers, ones I was going to get.

“Mr. Whoever you are,” I started, forcing steel into my voice, “I really do not care not to know. Just this: what services? Because either that’s your favourite word or something else, And more disturbingly, how do you know the name Vance? I seem to have a guess as to about where that seal came from, but I’d like to give you the benefit of a doubting hell that you are not a Volkov here to invite me for a drink after what your lineage has done. So cut to the very chase!”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

⁸He only took a long sip from his glass, his Adam’s apple shifting slowly, deliberately, before setting it back down with a soft click.

“Cutting to the chase, then. I know what the Volkov family did to your parents.” His tone was maddeningly casual. “I wouldn’t say I’m sorry for their deaths, though. They deserved what was coming for them since they had the guts to offend the very Alpha who guided them.”

He leaned forward slightly, pointing a lazy finger at me. “But you… you on the other hand haven’t even avenged them. My curiosity little one ticks, but Why?” His smile turned into a taunt. “Are you weak?”

My pulse roared in my ears.

“Are you a coward, one who tucks their tails behind them and runs from a fight?”

I pinched myself hard beneath the counter to keep from lunging at him right there. My nails dug crescent moons into my palm. He was baiting me. I wouldn’t give in be—

And then, he smirked. “Or are you just daddy’s little girl, as hopeless and worthless as he was before he died?”

My train of thought was forced to a brake. That was it.

Restraint shattered.

Before I could think, I was across the table. My fists twisted into his perfectly ironed collar, dragging him forward. The glass in his hand toppled and shattered, whiskey bleeding across the marble. The stool screeched, the table tipped.

Gasps broke out. Then silence. Every eye in the club turned toward us.

“WHATEVER BUSINESS YOU HAD WITH MY FATHER,” I snarled, my face inches from his, breath ragged, “I SWEAR IF YOU TALK ABOUT MY PARENTS LIKE THAT AGAIN, I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF!”

And he laughed.

A low, amused, infuriating laugh.

“Would you mind settling down, Princess? No need to be stupid in public.” He smiled like I hadn’t just threatened to kill him, like as if his life hadn’t just been between my palms. “You might also want to take a look around you.”

A look around? The words cut through my rage. I turned.

Growls. Low, rumbling, animalistic.

My stomach dropped.

The glittering patrons weren’t patrons anymore. They were crouched on all fours, their jaws distended, teeth elongated. Claws scraped against the floor. Their eyes, too bright, too wild, glowed in the low light.

Every single one was ready to attack.

All of them. For him.

My breath caught, throat dry. Realizing I was completely outmatched, I unclenched my fists and shoved him back. Slowly, deliberately, I stepped away.

He readjusted his collar like I’d only brushed lint off it. One flick of his wrist, and the wolves melted back into their elegant disguises, resuming drinks and conversations as though nothing had happened.

The room’s murmur returned. But I was still frozen.

Werewolves. Fabled tales of the Moon Goddess’s night Pups. They were real. And in New York? And he controlled them?

My world tilted on its axis.

He caught my stunned look and smirked again, savouring the fear written all over me.

“With all the fight in you,” he said smoothly, “and what you can accomplish with such built-in hatred, Why not pour it into something more yielding? For this, I’m offering you an opportunity. One many dream of but not many, a chance to get against the Volkovs. I’m offering you a deal. One for which your services are needed.”

His words coiled around me like smoke, like temptation laced with poison. He leaned back, utterly at ease.

“Are you in or out?”

A deal by the devil against another devil. If he had this kind of power then he didn’t need me, unless........ there was something only I could do. Something about me. Something about me being a Vance and my parents being involved with the Volkovs.

I folded my arms tightly, forcing myself to study him through the thrum of adrenaline. Broad shoulders, cocky smile, a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. A face that would’ve made most women melt. But not me. Not tonight.

Not when I’d seen him command an entire room of wolves and not when an opportunity he presented, was one that came just once in a 100 life times. Revenge against the Volkovs. The truth behind the lies and a better peace for my murdered Parents.

“I’m in,” I said.

His smile widened, triumphant, like he’d been waiting for that answer all along.

“But you know me,” I added carefully. “So who exactly are you?”

He looked at me, eyes glinting with something sharp and dangerous. Leaning in with that smile of his, he says,

“Learn to differentiate your devils from the Satan, my love.”

Now, a Satan, he?

He definitely was.