Alpha in the VIp room.

Scarlett's POV.

I had promised myself I'd never sell my dignity.

But promises meant nothing when your four-year-old son's next surgery depended on money you didn't have.

Watching your four-year-old son smile through the pain because he didn't want you to cry was one of them.

The white envelope sitting inside my handbag felt heavier than it should have. It contained Micah's latest hospital report, another estimate for the surgery he desperately needed, and another reminder that time was running out.

I'd read every line so many times the words had burned themselves into my memory.

"His condition is deteriorating. We strongly advise proceeding with surgery as soon as possible."

As soon as possible.

Doctors always made it sound so simple.

As though operations could be paid for with determination instead of money.

I slipped the envelope back into my bag just as someone burst through the staff room door.

"Scarlett, thank goodness you're still here."

I looked up from the locker I was closing and frowned.

Lena stood in the doorway, her breathing uneven, clutching a bundle of shimmering silver fabric against her chest. Her lipstick was smudged, her mascara had bled beneath her eyes, and even beneath the harsh fluorescent lights, I could see she was trembling.

"What happened?" I asked.

Instead of answering, Lena hurried over and shoved the outfit into my hands.

"You need me to wear this?" I frowned at the silver scraps before looking back at her.

"Please, Scarlett." She shook her head. "I need you to cover my performance tonight."

I stared at her as if she'd completely lost her mind. "Lena, I'm a waitress. I don't know the first thing about dancing."

"You don't have to dance. Just... move around a little." She glanced over her shoulder before lowering her voice. "The client booked the VIP lounge. They won't care as long as someone shows up."

I tried handing the outfit back, but she refused to take it.

"I can't," I said, shaking my head. "Find someone else."

"There isn't anyone else."

The desperation in her voice made me look at her properly for the first time.

Her breathing was uneven, and the cardigan she always wore hung awkwardly over one shoulder. When she reached for the outfit again, the sleeve slid down her arm.

Dark bruises circled her wrist.

My frown deepened. "Victor did that?"

Lena quickly pulled the sleeve back down, but it was too late.

"He was angry." She forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "That's all."

"Angry enough to leave marks like that?"

"I turned down one of his regulars last night." She looked away. "He said if I don't perform tonight, he'll make sure I never work here again."

My gaze dropped to her legs. Even beneath the black tights, I could see the slight tremble every time she shifted her weight. "You can barely stand. How does he expect you to dance?"

"He doesn't." Lena let out a quiet breath. "As long as the customers are happy, that's all he cares about.”

The room fell quiet.

The music outside was loud enough to rattle the lockers, but somehow it only made the silence between us feel heavier.

Lena let out a slow breath before speaking again. "Those men always leave huge tips, Scarlett. One night with them is more than I make in a month. Take everything they give you. I don't want a single penny."

My fingers tightened around the envelope inside my bag.

Micah's surgery.

The doctor's words echoed through my head all over again.

"As soon as possible."

"I've never worn anything like this," I admitted, looking down at the outfit.

"You'll be wearing a mask." Lena reached into the bag and pulled out a silver masquerade mask, placing it on top of the costume. "The dancers are all masked tonight. Nobody will recognise you."

I picked it up and turned it over in my hands.

A mask.

For most people, it was nothing more than part of the performance.

For me… It meant hiding.

Five years had passed since I'd crossed into the human world, and I'd survived by making sure nobody asked questions. I kept my head down, worked as much as I could, and stayed as far away from anything connected to werewolves as possible.

One night couldn't change that.

Could it?

"I'll only do this once." I looked back at Lena. "After tonight, don't ever ask me again."

Relief spread across her face.

"I won't." She nodded so quickly it almost made me smile. "Thank you, Scarlett. You have no idea how much you're helping me."

"I just hope I don't get us both fired."

"You won't."

I wasn't nearly as confident as she sounded.

Twenty minutes later, I barely recognised the woman staring back at me.

The silver skirt barely reached the middle of my thighs, and the fitted top exposed more skin than I had in years. I tugged at the hem, hoping it would somehow grow longer, but it stubbornly stayed where it was.

Lena noticed and smiled apologetically. "Don't worry. Everyone complains the first time."

"I'm not complaining." I adjusted the strap on my shoulder. "I'm questioning every decision that brought me here."

She laughed, though it didn't quite hide the guilt in her eyes. Reaching into the costume bag, she handed me the silver mask. "Here. You'll feel better once you put this on."

I slipped it over my face and fastened the ribbon behind my head before turning back to the mirror.

It wasn't much but it was enough.

"See?" Lena said. "You'll be fine."

"I hope you're right."

A sharp knock sounded on the dressing room door before either of us could say anything else.

"Lena," one of the waitresses called from outside. "The VIP guests are asking where the dancer is."

Lena glanced at me before giving my hand a quick squeeze. "They're waiting."

I nodded, took one last look at my reflection, and left the dressing room.

The further I walked down the corridor, the quieter the club became. The pounding music faded behind thick walls, replaced by nothing but the sound of my heels against the polished floor.

My handbag rested against my side, and without thinking, I slipped my fingers inside until they brushed against the hospital estimate.

As soon as possible.

The doctor's voice refused to leave me alone.

"I'll find the money," I whispered to myself. "Somehow."

My wolf stirred.

I slowed to a stop.

It had been years since she'd reacted so suddenly, and the unfamiliar restlessness spreading through me made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

What is it?

She didn't answer.

Instead, the feeling grew stronger.

I frowned and continued walking, but with every step, it became harder to ignore. By the time I reached the end of the corridor, my heartbeat had quickened for reasons I couldn't explain.

Then I caught it.

A scent of deep cedar and rain-soaked earth.

And one wolf. Several of them.

I stopped outside the heavy wooden door leading into the VIP lounge.

No… That couldn't be right.

There weren't supposed to be werewolves here.

The human city had always been neutral territory. Packs rarely crossed into it unless they had business to settle, and even then, they usually kept to themselves.

So why were there so many gathered in one place?

My fingers tightened around the door handle.

Maybe I was imagining it.

Maybe being away from my pack for so long had made my senses unreliable.

Drawing in a slow breath, I pushed the door open.

Conversation filled the room.

The scent hit me first.

Whisky, expensive cigars. And wolves.

Every man inside was a werewolf.

Some lounged across leather sofas with drinks in their hands while others stood talking amongst themselves. The moment I stepped inside, several pairs of eyes lifted in my direction.

For a second, nobody spoke.

Then one of the men leaned back with an amused grin.

"I thought they said they were sending us their best dancer."

Another chuckled as his gaze travelled over me. "Maybe she's nervous."

I swallowed and forced myself to keep walking.

Just get through this.

Take the money and leave.

The music playing softly through the speakers gave me something to move to, though calling it dancing would have been generous. I did my best to follow the rhythm, painfully aware of every awkward step I took.

A laugh broke out somewhere behind me.

"I've seen injured wolves move better than that."

"Forget the dancing," another man said with a grin. "Tell her to take something off. At least we'll get our money's worth."

Heat crept up my neck, but I kept my eyes on the floor.

I only needed to survive one night.

The scrape of a chair pulled my attention up.

One of the men had gotten to his feet and was already making his way towards me.

"You look terrified," he said, stopping close enough for me to smell the alcohol on his breath. "Relax. We'll make this easy for you."

His hand reached for the strap resting on my shoulder.

"Don't touch her."

The voice wasn't loud but it made the man freeze.

Every conversation in the room died instantly.

He stepped back without a single complaint, lowering his head in the direction of the darkest corner of the lounge.

"My apologies, Alpha."

My breath hitched

Alpha?

I followed everyone's gaze.

A man sat alone in the corner, one arm resting lazily against the back of the leather sofa, his features half-hidden beneath the dim lighting.

I couldn't see his face clearly at first.

Then he leaned forward and my heart stopped.

The years had changed him. His shoulders had broadened, his jaw had become sharper, and there was a coldness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

But I would have recognised that face anywhere.

Braxton.

My stepbrother.

My wolf let out a broken whimper inside me.

No… It couldn't be him. Not after five years.

His gaze settled on me, unreadable and unwavering. For one terrifying second, I forgot how to breathe.

Then the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile that held no warmth at all.

"Bring her here."

Before I could react, two men gently but firmly lifted me off my feet and carried me across the room.

I barely had time to protest before they set me down on Braxton's lap.

His scent surrounded me instantly, so painfully familiar that my chest tightened.

I kept my head lowered, silently thanking every star above that I was still wearing the mask.

Did he recognise me?

Or was I just another dancer to him?

The silence between us stretched until the sharp vibration of a phone shattered it.

One of the men glanced at the screen before looking towards Braxton.

"Alpha," he said respectfully, "your Luna is calling.”