Chapter 8

City….

The dimly lit room was thick with anticipation. Cards shuffled, chips clinked, and players eyed each other warily. 

The dealer revealed the flop: Ace of Spades, Eight of Hearts, Five of Diamonds.

 Players murmured, their whispers weaving a tense melody.

One player raised the chip clinking against others. "Five hundred."

The door pushed open and a masculine figure stepped inside, gaining everyone's attention 

“Hi, I'm Daniel”. Daniel greeted, looking at the scary mens tearing him with stares. 

The players looked up, their gazes lingering on him before returning to the game. 

He cleared his throat, trying to get their attention. 

“I heard you guys are the werewolves hunter” 

They glanced at him and a man who looked like their leader burst out laughing and the rest joined. 

“We don't have money man, go elsewhere” he laughed again, scanning him from head to toe. 

“I am not joking, I fucking followed one there”. He shouted, feeling annoyed and dejected. 

“hmm, really?. Then sit and watch us play” another man with bushy beard replied looking bored already. 

“Are you guys fucking with me now ?”

“Look here young man, we don't know what you are talking about so just leave here and never come back cuz you won't like what I will do to you” the leader uttered, voice stern with a fierce look 

“I'm not leaving here, Ayla is there with that Animal. She talked about some Mate shit that I do not even understand” 

Daniel yelled back, angered and rejected. 

“Ohhh ... .its love”. A guy at the extreme end muttered and they all laughed it out. 

The leader looked at him one last time before finally muttering 

“Follow me” . 

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They walked through a long, narrow passage, twisting and turning through doorways of varying sizes. 

Faded laughter drifted from behind some of the doors, but Daniel barely noticed. His mind was consumed by one thought—Ayla.

He was here because of heartbreak. And resentment.

After what felt like an endless maze, they stopped in front of a slightly ajar door. Felix, the man leading him, stepped inside first.

Two figures sat at a table, dining quietly, their hushed laughter mingling with the clink of utensils.

 One of them—a man who looked to be in his late thirties—glanced up, revealing a muscular frame etched with tattoos. His lazy gaze flicked to Daniel.

“Looks like we have a visitor,” the tattooed man murmured, his voice thick with sleep or wine.

“He claims to know about the werewolves,” Felix said, bowing his head.

The other figure, cloaked and shadowed, lifted her face just enough to meet Daniel’s eyes. Her stare was cold and piercing.

“Come closer,” she commanded.

Daniel hesitated, his heart pounding. After a brief pause, he stepped inside. 

Felix gave a slight bow and quietly exited, leaving Daniel alone under the scrutiny of the tattooed man and the cloaked woman.

“Come, have a seat,” the tattooed man said with a lazy grin. “Or are you standing there because you think I’ll swallow you whole?”

A cracked laugh escaped the woman’s lips.

“Your face alone could scare the poor guy off,” she said dryly, sipping her wine.

Daniel moved a little but didn't sit, his movements stiff. The woman's gaze was still on him.

“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice cool and piercing.

“I... I know about the werewolves,” he stammered, fidgeting under the weight of her stare.

The tattooed man leaned back in his chair, arms folded. “Why don’t you relax a little? Take a sip of something. I’m guessing our boys didn’t treat you well.”

Daniel nodded, swallowing hard, then lowered himself into the seat opposite the cloaked woman. He cleared his throat, trying to muster the courage to speak.

Daniel nodded, swallowing hard, and lowered himself into the seat opposite the cloaked woman. He cleared his throat, trying to summon the courage to speak.

“My fiancée mentioned something about mates. She went back to the werewolves, and I… I followed her.”

He swallowed again before continuing. “There, she met someone who claimed to be her mate.”

“And how did you know all this?” the tattooed man asked, clearly intrigued.

“I traced her there,” Daniel muttered, shifting uncomfortably under the woman’s intense gaze.

“I knew you were coming,” the cloaked woman murmured, sipping her wine.

Before Daniel could process that, she spoke again—this time, even more unsettling.

“Her name is Ayla Rowan. Mate of Alpha Cade Thorne,” she said with a small smirk.

“Yes! That’s him—Cade,” Daniel exclaimed, relieved the conversation was going somewhere.

But then it hit him. “Wait… how do you know her name? I never told you.”

The cloaked woman ignored the question, turning to the tattooed man. “Treat our guests well,” she said.

Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled faintly. “I am Sera.”