Swallowed by the Night

We drive to Tara's house, which barely qualifies as a house anymore.

It's a mansion.

Her dad made a fortune in finance before moving fully back into pack life, and it shows. Massive windows. Marble everywhere. The kind of place that looks staged even when nobody's home.

Omegas aren't servants anymore—haven't been for years—but Tara still somehow lives like wolf royalty.

Her parents are away in Hawaii.

Which, according to Tara, means civilization has temporarily collapsed.

We order pizza, dump makeup across every available bathroom surface, and start getting ready like we're preparing for war instead of a club.

I'm the last one to shower.

I'm halfway through washing shampoo out of my hair when the bathroom door swings open without warning.

Because apparently privacy is optional in Tara's world.

She holds up a razor dramatically like she's presenting Excalibur to the kingdom.

I blink water out of my eyes.

"What."

"You need to shave," she says seriously.

My entire spine stiffens.

"I'm shaving my armpits. That's it."

Tara gasps so loudly you'd think I admitted to tax fraud.

"Catherine Evans, you cannot go out tonight without shaving downstairs."

"Talk to my hand," I say flatly, and shove the door shut in her face.

June laughs so hard inside me I nearly inhale shampoo.

I shave my armpits and bikini line and refuse to go any further because:

A) I'm not fifteen.

B) Tara is not the governing authority of my body.

When I finally walk back into Tara's bedroom wrapped in a towel, she immediately looks me up and down like she's conducting an inspection.

"Is your bush gone?"

"No."

She sighs like life has personally betrayed her.

"You are impossible."

"Thank you," I reply sweetly.

Tara points a mascara wand at me accusingly.

"Okay, serious question. Are we going full free-spirit tonight, or are we pretending you're socially domesticated?"

I don't even glance up from digging through my bag.

"Neither."

She blinks. "Neither?"

"I'm not grooming myself for somebody else's expectations," I say calmly. "Real or imaginary."

Tara stares at me for a second before letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

"I give up. Completely. Total surrender."

Then she mutters while turning back toward the mirror,

"I try to civilize one feral woman and this is the thanks I get."

June sounds deeply pleased.

Feral is absolutely a compliment.

Makeup comes next.

Tara curls Lizzie's hair into soft waves that somehow make her look older overnight. More confident too. Lizzie keeps staring at herself in the mirror like she doesn't fully recognize the girl looking back.

"Okay," Tara says, wiggling her eyebrows. "Tonight. Is it happening?"

Lizzie immediately turns bright red.

My stomach tightens before I can stop it.

"Lizzie, you don't have to do anything."

"I want to," she says quickly, then laughs nervously. "Invisible isn't really my thing anymore. And also... hello? I'm a wolf. I have needs."

I groan dramatically.

"Oh my God. Am I seriously surrounded by sex-starved wolves?"

Tara beams proudly. "Yes."

June murmurs dryly inside me,

This is where bad decisions begin.

Then Tara turns toward me with narrowed eyes.

"Oh no," she says. "Your turn."

Twenty minutes later my hair falls in loose waves down my back with a few thin braids pinned away from my face. Tara keeps the makeup surprisingly light—just enough to sharpen my eyes and soften my mouth a little.

When she finally steps back, I stare at myself in the mirror.

It's still me.

Just... slightly more dangerous-looking.

Tara grins in satisfaction.

"Seductress."

"I hate you."

"No you don't," she says immediately, pointing a makeup brush at me. "And tonight you are not allowed to hide in your comfort zone."

June shifts uneasily beneath my skin.

Something feels off.

My fingers tighten slightly around my bag strap.

What do you mean?

I don't know, she admits quietly. Just... don't let anyone control you tonight.

A chill crawls slowly down my spine.

Because that's always been the thing I hated most.

Control.

Fate.

Bonds.

The idea that one stupid choice could turn into a chain around your throat.

Before I can think too hard about it, Tara suddenly squeals from the window.

"The limo is here!"

Of course there’s a limo.

I grab my phone, shove it into my bag, and force myself toward the door.

One night, I tell myself.

One stupid night.

The limousine waiting outside looks ridiculous.

Long. Black. Glossy enough to reflect the streetlights like water.

Tara practically vibrates with excitement.

"Oh my God, this is actually happening."

Lizzie smooths her dress down for maybe the tenth time. "I feel like we're about to commit a crime."

"We're making memories," Tara corrects while climbing inside first.

I hesitate for half a second before following them in.

The inside smells like leather and expensive cologne. Dim lights glow softly overhead while a tiny built-in bar sits stocked with alcohol none of us could ever afford ourselves.

The door shuts behind us with a heavy thud.

Then the limo starts moving.

As the town disappears behind us, something shifts inside me.

Rules loosen.

Expectations blur around the edges.

Tara pours drinks like this is her natural habitat while Lizzie giggles beside her, cheeks pink with nerves and excitement.

I lean back against the seat instead, watching city lights blur past through the tinted windows.

June stirs beneath my skin again.

We're crossing a line.

I stare out at the passing lights.

I know.

But I don't stop it either.

By the time the limo finally pulls up outside the club, bass is already vibrating faintly through the pavement beneath us. People glance over immediately when the driver steps out to open the door, music and flashing lights spilling out into the street.

Tara climbs out first looking radiant and completely unapologetic.

Lizzie follows with her shoulders squared and eyes bright.

I step out last, my heels hitting pavement with immediate irritation.

I straighten my spine automatically and head toward the entrance like I belong there anyway.

Internally, though, I'm still cursing Tara for dragging me out tonight when I could've been home barefoot, comfortable, and minding my own business in peace.

The club doors open.

And the night swallows us whole.