Five

Chapter Five: Truth or Dare

Rhea’s POV

“Should I?”

The question slipped from my mouth softly, almost lazily, yet it landed between us like a challenge thrown at his feet.

Leon blinked.

For the briefest moment, he looked genuinely lost. Not angry. Not dominant. Just… confused. As though the scene he’d rehearsed in his mind, the tears, the confrontation, the desperate plea, had gone off script entirely.

“Rhea,” he said quietly, lowering his voice the way he always did when he wanted control back. “I know what you’re thinking.”

I swirled the last of the wine in my glass, watching the deep red cling to the sides. “Do you?”

“You’re upset,” he continued carefully. “About Elara. About what people might be assuming.”

I tipped the glass back and finished it. The wine burned pleasantly as it slid down my throat. “Are you upset about something?”

He frowned. “No, I just, ” He paused, clearly scrambling. “I thought you might be feeling… I don’t know. Jealous.”

I turned fully toward him, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair. “Why would I be jealous?”

The silence that followed was thick and awkward.

Leon stared at me as if I’d said something in a language he didn’t understand.

“Because…” He gestured vaguely across the room, toward where Elara was laughing, her hand brushing Marcus’s arm as if it belonged there. “Because of how that looked.”

“How did it look?” I asked evenly.

His jaw tightened. “Damn it, Rhea.” Frustration cracked through his voice. “Where’s the fire? Where’s the drama? Why aren’t you, ” He cut himself off abruptly.

“Why aren’t I what?” I prompted.

He didn’t answer.

But I knew.

Why aren’t you crying?

Why aren’t you angry?

Why aren’t you giving me something I can twist into reassurance and submission?

For three years, Leon had fed on my uncertainty. On my fear of abandonment. On my need to be chosen.

Tonight, none of that was there.

I wasn’t reacting the way he needed me to.

Instead, I was calm. Detached.

Unfamiliar.

“Do you want to keep playing?” I asked, nodding toward the group as they reassembled around the low table.

He swallowed. “Yeah. Sure.”

His voice was hoarse.

The bottle spun again, clinking softly as it slowed, then stopped.

Elara.

She clapped her hands together, delight lighting up her face like a spotlight. “Looks like it’s me.”

“Truth or dare?” Lina asked, trying valiantly to keep the energy light.

“Dare,” Elara replied instantly, flashing a grin that could have powered the city. “Always dare.”

A chorus of cheers followed. Suggestions flew from every direction, some playful, some vulgar.

Then Ryan spoke.

“Kiss any guy in this room,” he said. “Your choice.”

The reaction was immediate. Whistles. Laughter. Excited murmurs.

Elara rose smoothly to her feet.

“Well,” she said, placing a finger thoughtfully against her lips, “this is difficult.”

She began to circle the group, hips swaying just enough to be deliberate. Every man followed her with their eyes.

Leon went rigid beside me.

His hands clenched into fists on his thighs, knuckles whitening.

Elara stopped behind one chair, then another. She leaned close, whispered something into someone’s ear, earning laughter.

Then she came to Leon.

Her fingers trailed lightly over his shoulders.

“Tempting,” she murmured.

His breath caught audibly.

The sound sent ice straight through my veins.

But then she moved on.

She completed the circle and stopped behind Marcus. Placing both hands firmly on his shoulders, she smiled.

“You’ll do.”

Marcus grinned, already turning. “Lucky me.”

“No.”

The word cracked through the room like a gunshot.

Leon was on his feet, chair scraping loudly backward.

“The game’s done.”

Elara turned slowly, eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Leon, it’s just a game.”

“I said no.” He crossed the space in three strides and seized her wrist. “We’re leaving.”

“Hey!” Marcus protested. “She chose me fair and square.”

Leon turned on him, Alpha authority exploding outward. “Touch her and I’ll break your fucking neck.”

The room fell dead silent.

No one challenged him.

Elara allowed herself to be pulled along, but not before I caught the fleeting, triumphant smile she thought no one noticed.

They disappeared up the stairs toward the private rooms.

“Where are you going?” The question slipped out of me before I could stop it.

Leon paused, his back still to me.

“To talk,” he said shortly. “Privately.”

The door upstairs slammed shut.

I reached for another glass of wine with steady hands.

Around me, people sat frozen, unsure whether to speak, laugh, or pretend nothing had happened.

Then Mara laughed.

“Well,” she said loudly, lifting her drink, “that was spectacular.”

A few people joined in, nervous chuckles breaking the tension.

“Our Alpha finally stopped pretending,” Ryan added, his grin sharp. “Poor Rhea. Left behind at her own boyfriend’s party.”

“Technically Lina’s party,” I corrected calmly.

Jennifer leaned forward, eyes glittering. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is who Leon chose to disappear with.”

“And it wasn’t his live-in girlfriend,” someone snickered.

Laughter spread.

“This is better than any holo-drama,” Mara continued. “Watching the fake Luna get replaced in real time.”

“Replaced?” Marcus scoffed. “She was never the real thing.”

“Practice mate,” Ryan agreed. “Keeping the place warm until the original came back.”

Jennifer smirked. “I bet she really thought she mattered.”

“Delusion runs deep,” someone else added.

I stood.

Without a word, I walked out.

The bathroom door closed softly behind me. I made it into the nearest stall and locked it before the tears came.

I sat down hard on the closed toilet lid and pressed my face into my hands.

The dress. The shoes. The mask of composure.

None of it mattered.

My chest felt crushed, as though something vital had been squeezed until it stopped functioning.

Three years.

Three years of believing I was chosen.

I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to steady myself.

That was when the bathroom door opened again.

Jennifer’s voice carried clearly.

“Did you see her face when Leon left with Elara?”

“Almost disappointed she didn’t cry,” another voice laughed.

“That would’ve been perfect.”

I froze.

“Three years pretending she was Luna material,” Jennifer continued. “Finally got the reality check she deserved.”

“He didn’t even hesitate,” someone else said. “Just grabbed Elara and walked away.”

“Because that’s all she ever was,” Jennifer sneered. “Furniture. Decorative. Convenient.”

Their laughter echoed sharply off the tiled walls.

“I give it a week before he throws her out,” Jennifer added. “Why keep the knockoff when the original’s back?”

“Poor orphan,” someone mocked. “Nowhere to go.”

“Maybe she’ll find another Alpha to cling to,” another voice chimed in. “Though after tonight? Good luck.”

My hands shook as I covered my mouth to keep silent.

Let me out, Esme snarled inside me. Let me tear them apart.

No.

They’re insulting us, she raged. Fight back.

What would that prove? That I was exactly what they thought, unstable, emotional, weak?

We are not weak, Esme snarled. We are Ironclaw-born.

I squeezed my eyes shut as their laughter faded.

Better to walk away.

Better to survive.

And better, finally, to remember who I was before Leon ever decided I was useful.