Chapter 3

Elara's POV:

The Uber driver kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror. I couldn't blame him. A woman in pajamas and a trench coat, soaked to the bone and clutching a single backpack, asking for a ride to the most exclusive address in the state at two in the morning.

His skepticism turned to outright shock when I gave him the destination. "Silver Crown Estate? Ma'am, you sure about that? That place... it's not for just anyone." He gave a nervous laugh. "Locals say there are wolves in those woods."

I stared out at the rain-streaked city lights blurring past, my mind a maelstrom of anger. "I'm sure."

The urban landscape gradually gave way to winding, unlit country roads. The deeper we drove into the forested hills, the more my phone's signal bars dwindled, until finally, they disappeared completely.

After another thirty minutes, the car's headlights illuminated a pair of colossal wrought-iron gates. An intricate crest was worked into the metal: the snarling head of a wolf intertwined with a crown. The place looked less like a mansion and more like a fortress, with high stone walls disappearing into the dense, dark woods on either side.

The driver pulled up short of the gate, where two guards in severe black uniforms stood watch. He rolled down his window to speak to them, but one of them simply held up a hand, a silent, unarguable dismissal. We weren't even allowed to approach.

"This is as far as I can take you," the driver said, looking relieved.

I paid him and got out, the cold rain a familiar shock. He sped away as if fleeing a haunted house, leaving me alone in the oppressive silence.

I retreated into the shadows of the treeline, watching. A procession of luxury cars purred up to the gate, presented some kind of pass to the guards, and were waved through without a word. There was no way I was getting in the front.

My eyes scanned the perimeter. Further down the wall, partially obscured by overgrown bushes, was a smaller service entrance. The security there seemed less intense. As I watched, a catering van pulled up, and the driver got out to share a cigarette with the lone guard.

This was my chance.

While their backs were turned, I darted from the cover of the woods. My sneakers were silent on the wet asphalt. The back of the van was unlatched. I hoisted myself up and inside, pulling the door closed just enough that it wouldn't swing open.

Darkness enveloped me. The van smelled of sweet champagne, damp cardboard, and something else... something wild and musky, like wet earth and animal fur. I dismissed it as the smell of the forest. The van lurched into motion, the ride bumpy on the gravel service road.

A few minutes later, it came to a stop. The back doors swung open, flooding the space with light. I squinted, seeing a bustling kitchen loading dock. While the driver and a team of workers were busy unloading crates of champagne, I slipped out of the van and ducked behind a stack of empty pallets.

I stripped off my soaked coat, revealing the simple black dress underneath-one of the few nice things I'd managed to save. I ran my fingers through my damp hair, trying to look less like a drowned rat and more like a guest who had misplaced her invitation.

I saw a waiter carrying a tray of empty glasses head towards a side door. I fell into step behind him, keeping my head down, and walked right into the heart of the beast.

The opulence of the main hall was staggering, but it was the people who set my teeth on edge. Every guest moved with a predatory grace. They were all tall, confident, with eyes that seemed to miss nothing. They communicated with subtle shifts in posture and fleeting glances, a silent language I couldn't comprehend.

Pushing down a wave of unease, I scanned the crowd for Cain.

"...a brilliant move for Blackwood. To be accepted by Alpha Lycan himself is an incredible honor."

I froze, hearing the name. Two elegantly dressed women stood nearby, sipping champagne. I pretended to adjust my dress, listening intently.

"Alpha?" The word meant nothing to me. A nickname? A corporate title?

"There he is," one of the women said, gesturing with her glass towards a second-floor balcony. "The groom, conferring with the Beta."

I followed her gaze. And there he was. Cain. He looked radiant, laughing with an older, stern-faced man. My path was clear, but two more guards stood at the base of the grand staircase, their arms crossed, barring the way.

I couldn't force my way past them. I needed a distraction, a disguise.

My eyes landed on a young waitress preparing a tray of drinks, clearly destined for the VIPs upstairs.

An idea, desperate and reckless, took root in my mind. I took a deep, steadying breath and started walking towards her. Tonight, Cain would face me.