CHAPTER NINETEEN

~Riya~

The slap didn’t end the humiliation; it was only the beginning.

As if striking me wasn’t enough, Dorian ordered me to work the entire night alone. Every other night-shift waiter was dismissed and sent back to the staff quarters. “They’re relieved of duty,” he said coldly. “You’ll serve every table tonight by yourself.”

I didn’t even argue. What could I say? He was my boss, my master, my captor. So I lowered my head and obeyed.

The restaurant glowed like a palace. It was late, but customers still poured in: rich men in silk suits, women in glittering gowns, laughing over wine and desserts. And I was the lone waiter, weaving between their tables like a shadow.

“Welcome to Classy Dinings,” I greeted, forcing a polite smile at a broad-chested man whose shirt looked a size too small for him. “What would you like to have tonight?”

He glanced up from his phone. “A cup of coffee, two omelets, and avocado toast.”

That sounded like breakfast, not dinner, but who was I to question? “Sit and relax, sir,” I said smoothly. “Your order will be brought shortly.”

I hurried back to the kitchen, called out the order, and rushed to the next table. And then the next. Back and forth, I went, balancing trays, clearing dishes, refilling glasses, bowing, smiling, thanking. My legs trembled beneath me, and the arches of my feet burned from standing too long. The muscles in my shoulders screamed each time I lifted another tray.

If this was my punishment, I would survive it.

Hours dragged by. My reflection in the glass door looked pale, my hair sticking to my damp forehead, but I kept moving. Around midnight, the crowd began to thin, and finally, Dorian left the premises without a glance in my direction.

The head chef, a stout woman with weary eyes, wiped her forehead and sighed. “Take ten minutes, Riya. Sit down before you collapse.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I whispered, bowing slightly.

I walked out of the kitchen, shaking from exhaustion. Just as I reached the corridor, a soft hand caught mine.

“Leanna?” I gasped.

She smiled. “What are you doing here?” I whispered. “You’re supposed to be asleep!”

“Come on,” she said, tugging my hand. “My friend is being punished, and I’m supposed to just lie in bed? Not happening.”

Despite everything, I laughed. “Aww, thank you. I love you, my girl.”

Her brows shot up. “Hmm, you’ve never said that before, Riya Wintle.”

“Well, I mean it,” I said with a tired grin. “Working here hasn’t been easy, but you make it worth my while.”

Leanna’s face softened. “Then how about I help you tonight? You serve the food, I’ll take the orders. The chef doesn’t have to know.”

“Leanna…”

“No buts,” she cut me off. “And when the last guest leaves, you’re coming to my room. I already made a warm bath for you. We’ll share some snacks, talk a bit. Deal?”

I chuckled weakly. “What would I do without you?”

We hugged briefly, and together, we snuck back to the kitchen.

Leanna darted between tables, jotting down orders while I prepared the trays. We worked quietly, careful not to attract attention. Her presence made the night bearable, her quick jokes, her whispered encouragements, the way she winked when no one was watching.

By the time the last customer left, the chef was so exhausted she practically ran out of the kitchen. The lights dimmed, and silence finally settled over the restaurant.

Leanna clapped her hands softly. “Freedom.”

I sighed with relief. “Finally.”

“Now,” she said, glancing around mischievously, “let’s make this night worth the suffering.”

She began picking things from the counter: apples, oranges, strawberries, some beverages, and a handful of peanuts. “This should do.”

I grabbed my bag and water bottle, and together we tiptoed down the quiet hallway toward the staff quarters. The sound of our giggles echoed softly through the empty corridor.

Leanna’s room, Room 8, was right next to mine. I followed her in, and the moment I sat down, my legs gave way beneath me.

“Go on, take your bath,” she said, handing me a towel. “I’ll set things up.”

The warm water soothed my aching muscles, washing away the tension of the night. When I stepped out, I slipped into one of Leanna’s soft nighties and joined her on the floor. She had spread the snacks between us.

“You’ve never really told me anything about yourself,” she said between bites of strawberries.

I blinked, taken aback. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Try me,” she teased, nudging my shoulder.

I hesitated before sighing. “My name is Riya Wintle… and I’m a werewolf. From the former Nightfang Pack.”

Her eyes widened. “Hmm. Interesting.”

“My father was the Alpha,” I continued quietly. “Our pack was known for its strength; our lands for their fertility. We were prosperous, maybe too prosperous. Travelers came, wolves migrated in. But with prosperity came envy. We attracted enemies who wanted what we had.”

Leanna gasped. “Oh my goodness…”

“It wasn’t always good, too,” I said softly. “When the economy fell, my father took loans from Dorian, huge sums. But then my father died, and everything crumbled. The enemies attacked, took our lands. The Alpha of the rival pack killed most of our people and… married my mother.” I let out a sigh. “I was sent here to work off my father’s debt.”

Leanna’s eyes shone with sympathy. “That’s awful, Riya. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, forcing a smile. “I’ve learned to live with it.”

For a moment, silence filled the room. Then I asked, “What about you?”

Her eyes softened. “I’m human,” she said simply. “My parents died in a car crash when I was a child. I was in it too… but I survived. I had no relatives, no siblings, no grandparents. Dorian was our only family friend, so he took me in. I’ve been here ever since.”

I reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “I’m so sorry, Leanna.”

She smiled faintly. “It’s okay. I’m just glad I found a friend.”

“Same here,” I said.

We hugged, two broken souls in a world that had forgotten us.

That night, we talked about everything: life, loss, and little dreams that felt too fragile to say out loud. We laughed over childhood memories, whispered secrets about the other staff, and promised that no matter what Dorian did, we’d always have each other.

Sometime before dawn, we finally drifted off, the half-empty juice bottles still beside us.

By morning, we were both up again, bleary-eyed but smiling. We dressed, fixed our hair, and went back to work as if the night hadn’t happened.

Dorian said nothing about the previous day’s chaos. He walked through the restaurant with his usual cold stare, inspecting the kitchen before disappearing into his office.

I spent the day moving between stations, washing dishes, setting tables, balancing trays. Leanna caught my eye from across the room and gave me a quick wink. I smiled, then looked away before anyone noticed.

When the day finally ended, I returned to my small room, showered, and made my way to the fire circle where the women gathered after work.

Life at Dorian’s was hard, sometimes unbearable, but there were moments, like these, that made it worth living.

Still, as I stared into the flames, my mind wandered back to the life I’d lost. To Darkmoon, to my mother, to the pack that was once my home.

Was she safe? Had she found a way to reclaim our lands? What new darkness was the grey-eyed wolf weaving in the shadows?

And somewhere, in a

distant corner of my heart, a familiar name whispered like the wind.

Aiden.

What were he and his family planning now?