Manu
Titus Talon, Alpha of the Blue Moon Pack, sat still with mild confusion flickering across his elegant features. He followed Dominic’s pointed finger to the unremarkable door of Room 3…
Dominic’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “A beautiful woman will walk through that door in just a moment. She’s… quite the delight. Consider this my friendly gesture, Mr. Talon.”
As he spoke, Dominic patted Titus’s arm with the casual camaraderie all men understood. “You catch my drift, don’t you?”
“Of course.” Titus’s poised exterior didn’t dampen the flicker of anticipation lighting his eyes.
His pack, the Blue Moon Pack, shared territory borders with Dominic’s Night Fall Pack, and over time, the two Alphas had built an easy alliance rooted in mutual benefit. Titus chuckled softly. “No wonder people call Vetro Club a paradise for werewolves.”
Dominic inclined his head with effortless grace. “Gentlemen, Mr. Talon, I’ll take my leave now.”
As he stepped toward the exit, he paused and turned back, his gaze gleaming with sinister amusement. “Mr. Talori, enjoy yourself. Soon, someone will bring in a prop for your entertainment. I personally selected a special woman for you tonight. Make sure every second counts.”
“Mr. Foster, you’re too kind,” Titus replied, his smile deepening as Dominic slipped out of the room and into the shadowed corridor beyond.
Once outside, Dominic leaned against the wall, drew out a cigarette, and lit it with a flick of his thumb. Pale smoke curled around his sharp features as he exhaled slowly, his eyes darkening with contempt when he spotted the woman entering. Room 3.
A cold smile tugged at his mouth.
This room was his trap, meticulously prepared for Laura’s downfall.
Inside, Laura set the bottle of wine on the polished side table and glanced around, searching for Dominic. Her heart fell with disappointment when she didn’t see him. She had thought he was the one who summoned her.
He must want me to serve him tonight, she had foolishly hoped.
She turned to leave. After all, she was just a waitress, not one of the call girls who lingered for drunken company.
Before she could slip away, a smooth, authoritative voice halted her: “What’s your name?”
She froze, startled by the question. Nervousness prickled under her skin as she answered softly. “My name is Laura.”
“Lauro..” Titus repeated, savoring the name. “That’s a pretty name. Come here. Sit with me.
Horrified, she recoiled. “Sir, I’m just a waitress.”
She emphasized the last word, hoping he would understand she wasn’t available for personal service. But Titus’s eyes glinted with a dark amusement that made her stomach twist.
To him and the other Blue Moon wolves lounging on plush sofas, her status didn’t matter. Dominic had promised them. something special-and in this room, the meaning of that word was clear.
Titus chuckled softly, as though her protests were endearing. “Sit down. Waitress or not, you work at Vetro Club. Even a Janitor here follows the rules, no?”
His words retained a veneer of civility, but his smile felt like Ice on her skin.
Clenching her teeth, Laura said tightly. “I’m just a waitress. I don’t drink with guests.”
Titus’s gaze flicked to his packmates, and a thin smile spread across his face. In his eyes, that smile carried unspoken danger
“Relax,” he murmured. “We aren’t monsters We won’t hurt you.”
He nodded toward the two men flanking him, and they turned their attention to Laura, eyes scanning her with leisurely
<Chapter 48
appraisal.
Her pulse thundered with alarm. She stepped backward, ready to flee, but Titus’s voice stopped her cold.
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“It would be rude to let you leave so soon. Especially after someone spoke so highly of you. They told me you’re quite… special, Miss Savio.”
His tone shifted, darkening with something cold and cruel. “Beta. Take care of our guest.”
One of the towering men rose without a word and blocked her path, his expression blank but his presence radiating silent
threat.
“Sir, this is Vetro Club,” Laura snapped, panic sharpening her voice. “Whatever you’re trying to do, you’d better think twice. before making trouble here.”
She clung to her last strand of confidence. Vetro Club’s strict hierarchy was her only shield.
Titus hesitated for a moment, thoughtful. Vetro Club is Preston’s territory. I can’t afford to cross him lightly.
Just then, a subordinate entered the room and leaned down to whisper in Titus’s ear. As the words sank in, Titus’s demeanor shifted completely. His eyes gleamed with merciless mockery.
He straightened slowly, facing Laura. “Miss Savio, I hear you’re no longer under Vetro Club’s protection. You’re… discarded.”
Her stomach dropped. Charlotte’s words from earlier came crashing back, and terror exploded in her chest. Her face drained of color as she stammered, “Don’t you dare touch me.
“Don’t be afraid, Miss Savio. We’re not here to hurt you. We just want a little show.”
Her throat went dry. “What show?”
Titus’s lips curled into a smile that sent icy dread slithering down her spine. “You’ll know when the prop arrives.”
As if on cue, two men carried in a massive transparent cabinet, nearly three meters tall. Its sheer walls gleamed under the dim lights, sealed tight on all sides except for an opening at the top.
Laura stared at it, numb with horror. It resembled a vertical coffin, only far larger–capable of holding three, maybe four people inside.
In the shadowed corridor beyond the doorway, Dominic watched silently. Smoke drifted lazily from the cigarette clamped between his lips. As the glowing ember reached its end, he flicked it into the trash can, turned on his heel, and disappeared into the darkness.
Inside, Titus opened his checkbook, his movements leisurely. He wrote down a figure with an elegant flourish, tore the slip free, and slid it across the table to Laura with a benign smile.
“Miss Savio, this is your performance fee. I want you to put on a show for us.”
She glanced down. Her heart stopped. “Two hundred thousand dollars?”
The number blazed before her eyes, momentarily dizzying her senses. But a sick premonition clawed up her spine. What kind of show is worth that much?
She looked up sharply at Titus, her eyes wide and fearful, “What kind of show?”
The temptation burned, hot and heavy, in her chest.
