1. Desperate Measures

Edric

The red paper on the door hit me like a punch to the gut.

EVICTION NOTICE.

 Final warning! Seven days!

I stared at it until the words blurred. Then I ripped it off, crumpled it in my fist, and pushed the door open. The hallway reeked of stale cigarettes and damp concrete, but all I could feel was the weight of failure pressing against my chest.

Seven days.

Seven days to come up with rent… or lose the only roof Aria and I had left.

I stepped inside our tiny one-bedroom apartment. The air was heavy with the smell of antiseptic and medicine and boiled rice, a bitter reminder of Aria’s medications and the only meal I could afford lately. My sister lay curled on the futon, her frail frame swallowed by a blanket that had long lost its fluff.

My throat tightened. She was only eighteen. She deserved hospitals, specialists, stability… not a brother who was drowning.

The pile of medical and house bills stared back at me from the counter, like a second eviction notice. I flipped through them, one after the other: chemotherapy installments, lab tests, prescriptions that cost more than I earned in a month, rent, electricity, water.... Each one more impossible than the last.

My vision blurred.

Get a grip, Edric.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, inhaled sharply, and unlocked my cracked phone screen. Job listings. None paid enough. None wanted someone like me—broke, exhausted, with no degree.

Then a single ad flickered at the bottom of the page.

LUNA NOIR: Now Hiring

 Dancers. Hosts. Private entertainers.

 No experience required. High pay. Night shifts. Must be comfortable performing.

High pay. The words hit me like electricity.

A club? Sleazy. Dangerous. Probably both.

But… what choice did I have?

I clicked the link.

Auditions tonight. 11 p.m.

 Location: Downtown.

 Dress code: All black.

 Required: Confidence.

My stomach twisted. I was loyal, hardworking, desperate—but I was not a performer. Not a sensual dancer for strangers.

Then I remembered Aria’s sleeping face.

I grabbed the only black outfit I had: fitted jeans and a button-up shirt that strained slightly over my chest. I wasn’t dressing to seduce anyone. I was dressing to survive.

The cracked mirror reflected a man I barely recognized: tired green eyes, tousled dark hair, a body honed from years of labor. Not bad-looking, I supposed… if someone squinted. Not enough to be a professional dancer, but apparently enough to try.

I bent over and kissed Aria’s forehead softly.

“I’ll figure it out,” I whispered. My voice trembled.

The neon sign above the door blazed: LUNA NOIR.

The club didn’t look like a club. It looked like sin carved in black marble.

Tall obsidian pillars framed the entrance. A crescent-moon symbol glowed silver above the doors. The line outside was full of beautiful people, too beautiful. Sculpted bodies. Graceful limbs. Eyes that gleamed unnaturally under the streetlights.

I swallowed. I didn’t belong here.

I stepped inside anyway. There was no choice. Not if I wanted Aria to keep a roof over her head.

The air was warm and thick with perfume, spice, and something darker—something electric. The music pulsed through the floor, a rhythmic throb that made my heartbeat stumble.

A woman with silver hair and eyes like liquid mercury greeted me.

“You’re here to audition?” Her voice was smooth, smoky.

“Y-yeah,” I stammered, trying not to stare.

She scanned me slowly, lips curving.

“Interesting.” She clipped a silver band around my wrist. It shimmered faintly. “Follow the corridor. And don’t touch any doors marked with a crescent.”

“Why not?”

Her smile widened—too sharp, too knowing.

“They bite.”

Before I could ask another question, she was gone, leaving me alone in the dim corridor. The doors along the hallway pulsed faintly, alive. Soft whispers curled through the air—luring, dangerous.

I swallowed and pressed on.

The audition room wasn’t a room. It was a stage bathed in violet light, surrounded by shadows. Other applicants waited nervously, stretching, practicing moves… some definitely didn’t look human under the lighting.

Then he appeared.

A massive figure, stepping out of darkness. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dominant without trying.

His eyes—golden, faintly glowing—pinned me in place.

The world seemed to hold its breath.

“Welcome to Luna Noir,” he rumbled. “I am Alpha Leon Valerius, assistant to the owner of this establishment.”

Beta? I thought. What kind of title was that?

His gaze drifted over the other candidates, but when it landed on me, it lingered. Too long. Too warm. Knowing, as if he could smell my desperation… and wanted more of it.

“Tonight,” Leon continued, voice velvet over steel, “we will see what you can offer. Not just your body…” His gaze flicked to my lips. “…but your fire. And I hope you don’t disappoint like the others who have come before you.”

Heat rushed through me.

“Begin.”

The music started. Deep, slow, sensual. The others moved first, confident, alluring.

I froze.

Then I saw Aria’s face in my mind. Eviction notice. Bills. Seven days. Survival snapped through me like a whip.

I stepped onto the stage. Heart hammering. Breath catching. Shirt straining against my chest. I wasn’t a dancer, but I let the music take over, let it carry me. Raw, unpolished, desperate—my movements became my words.

And he watched me. Only me.

Every step, every sway, every breath seemed to belong to him.

When the song ended, silence fell.

Leon rose from his seat and walked toward me, towering. A calloused thumb traced my jaw, sending a shiver I shouldn’t have felt.

“Interesting,” he murmured. Voice low, dangerous.

“Did I… did I do well?” I asked, heart hammering.

He smiled slowly, hungrily.

“You have no idea.”

“Have you ever danced?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Interesting,” he said again, eyes scanning me like he could read every secret I’d ever tried to hide.

“Interesting.”

And just like that, my life had changed.