Chapter 7 Southern Star

Alexa

"You can't leave me here alone. Aren't you supposed to protect me?" My eyes widened with a deep frown on my forehead.

I looked into his dark eyes, which I couldn't decipher. It was as if a blazing fire was hidden behind them. His jaw tightened. I thought he would change his decision, but he shook his head.

"I have to go. There are things I need to do elsewhere. Besides, it's better if we split up so those Alphas won't easily track us down," he scowled.

"But-But how?" I stammered.

"Go inside and ask for a man named Mr. Moris. He'll help you," he replied indifferently.

The thought of entering a strange place alone and meeting a stranger filled me with anxiety. I bit my lower lip, furrowing my brow, and stared at Harlow, trying to persuade him one more time.

"Please, stay with me just a little longer. At least until I meet Mr. Moris and know that everything will be safe," I pleaded with him.

Harlow raised an eyebrow. "If this place isn't safe, do you think being with me would be any safer?"

My voice got stuck in my throat. Yes, he was a stranger to me too. I didn't even know him before this. I didn't know whether he was being truthful or not. Being with Harlow wouldn't guarantee safety, but I didn't want to be alone.

He sighed. "Fine, just until you meet Mr. Moris."

Hearing that, my smile spread wide on my face. Mythril seemed to leap inside me, thrilled that we'd have more time with Harlow.

"Thank you," I said with a beaming smile.

He stared at me with his widened eyes. His gaze embarrassed me, making me think he saw me as a dependent and a coward.

"Come on." Harlow turned and walked ahead of me.

He pushed open the door of the club, and we were greeted by a dimly lit room. The faint glow of neon lights in purple, blue, and red illuminated the space. Soft electronic music played in the background.

Chairs lined the walls with thick, cushioned backs. Other tables were arranged around a long stage with a tall metal pole in the middle.

The room smelled overwhelming. I could pick up a mix of foul stink, sharp rose fragrances, and other scents that made me wrinkle my nose.

'Oh, Goddess. What is this place? Are they drunk in the daytime? What kind of magical creatures are they?' Mythril voiced her unease in my mind.

I glanced around at a few men with flushed faces or those who were babbling nonsensically. There were also massive, half-giant men with exaggerated muscles. Women in mini dresses giggled on sofas, letting themselves be passed around on the laps of several men.

We walked further into the room until we reached the long bar table at the far end. Glasses and bottles were neatly arranged on the wall rack behind it. The barstools were filled with men, women, and young couples.

A man in a black shirt stood behind the bar, meticulously wiping glasses. When we approached, he smiled at us.

"Hey," Harlow greeted.

"Hey. Ready to order?" the man asked.

"No. I want to meet Mr. Moris. We've made an appointment with him," Harlow said in his raspy voice, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

I frowned, glancing at his face. Had he really made an appointment with that man? Or was he lying?

"Oh, well, you can go through the back door and head upstairs. You'll find Mr. Moris sitting on the sofa," the man said as he pointed to an emergency staircase door at the back of the bar.

"Can you be more specific? Surely he's not the only one sitting on a sofa," Harlow asked again.

"There's only one sofa in the room, and only Mr. Moris can sit there," the bartender grinned.

The bartender then went to serve other customers. Harlow and I exchanged glances, and I could only furrow my brow.

'A not-so-secret mysterious door,' Mythril whispered sarcastically.

"Come," Harlow said as he moved toward the door and opened it.

The emergency stairs led only up and down. I could faintly hear noise coming from upstairs. We climbed the stairs, and the sound of commotion grew louder.

"Are you sure this Mr. Moris can help me and protect me?" I asked, my breath starting to hitch.

"Rumor has it he can. He used to be a kingmaker," he replied.

"Rumor? You're leaving me here alone based on a rumor? And what's a kingmaker? I don't want to be an Alpha, I just want to live." I wrinkled my face.

"He will give you a place to live and train you so you can control your wolf," he replied.

"Live and train here? But werewolves need a grassy field to train," I asked, still confused, but he didn't answer anymore.

When we finally reached the second floor, Harlow opened the only door, and my jaw dropped. "Oh my Goddess," I cursed at the sight before us.

Now I understood why the shouts sounded muffled from behind the door. The walls were padded, making the room nearly soundproof. This fact amplified the scent of sweat in the air, making me almost gag. I covered my mouth and tried to breathe in between my fingers.

A boxing ring stood tall in the center of the spacious room. People surrounded the ring, cheering on the fighters inside.

A burly, large man was fighting against a muscular woman with a dragon tattoo running down her arm. Her hair was braided into two plaits, and she moved nimbly, landing punches on her larger opponent. She even managed to deliver a solid blow to his eye, making him groan in pain.

I grabbed the back of Harlow's shirt, seeking protection from the wild scene before me. The two fighters traded punches and grappled without mercy. Blood streamed from their faces and sweat-drenched chests.

"Come on. That must be Mr. Moris," Harlow gestured toward the side of the ring.

Sure enough, a middle-aged man with his hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck was sitting on the only sofa in the room.

He wasn't sitting on the sofa cushions but perched on the sofa's backrest. His face remained calm, his elbows resting on his knees. We squeezed through the packed crowd, struggling to reach the man.

"Mr. Moris?" Harlow greeted us when we stood beside him.

Just then, the bell rang several times, and the room erupted in a roar of cheers. It seemed the match had ended. The winner was the woman, who was being hailed by the crowd with chants of her name, "Jo."

Mr. Moris clapped and cheered along with the others. We waited for the victory euphoria to subside before Mr. Moris turned to Harlow.

"If you want to fight, sign up at the counter over there." He pointed to a counter on the wall.

"We don't want to fight. I heard you train special kids," Harlow said, stepping aside to reveal me behind his back.

Mr. Moris looked me over from head to toe. My sweaty palms tightened their grip on Harlow's shirt. The man scrutinized me, making me tremble with insecurity under his gaze.

"How special?" Mr. Moris asked.

"18 years old, Lycan, pure Alpha heiress, couldn't control her wolf, but she has immense magic power," Harlow explained in one breath.

Once again, Mr. Moris stared at me. I felt like I was back in the auction room. Although Harlow hadn't mentioned a price, Mr. Moris's judging gaze reminded me of the masked bidders' piercing eyes.

"I won't take her," the man said in a cold tone.