LOGINAfter a reckless night and a scandal that went viral, her money is cut off. Pampered socialite Eloise Thorne, now stripped of her name, has to survive on her own and lands in the only place willing to hire her: a filthy garage. She expected grease and oil, but she didn't expect the lethal politics of rival gangs, or the chilling secret that their mechanics aren't entirely human. Led by the ruthless Alpha, Cane, the Wolfpack is the apex predator of the city's criminal underground. Now, Eloise is caught in the crossfire of a supernatural war she never knew existed. Every day forces her deeper into their dark world, where a simple mistake means losing more than just her job. As Cane pushes her boundaries and demands her obedience, Eloise finds herself surprisingly drawn to the danger he represents. She came looking for a paycheck. She found a pack, a secret, and an Alpha who might consume her whole.
View MoreI’d been waiting all year for the Silver Moon Gala. It was held annually at the Thorne Tower Plaza, a building that my father's company designed and built. The attending cost was a non-refundable two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Naturally, I didn't have to pay because I was representing the trust.
The Silver Moon Gala was started three years ago by my father's company as a charity event to preserve parts of the Everglades, which had been sealed off in the efforts to restore it. But I wasn't there for the cause.
My dress was everything. I had it designed and personally made by Laurent DesChamps, one of the most brilliant and exclusive designers alive. His f*e, a mere eighty thousand dollars, which I paid for without blinking. The final fitting was today, and my penthouse was chaotic. Five makeup artists, three hairstylists, and a bunch of assistants crowded my space. I was annoyed with all the people touching me, but it paid off.
My final look was perfect. Laurent had created a custom velvet gown of midnight-blue that appeared almost black in a certain light. It was perfectly tucked at the waist and plunged at the back. My signature ice-blonde hair was styled with sculpted waves. My eyes were covered with a dramatic, smoky shadow that stood out beautifully from my pale skin.
In a hurry to catch the elevator, with everyone running for it, I suddenly felt a tug at the back of my dress and heard a rip. I looked back and realized someone had stepped on the dress's trail.
“Dammit! You ripped it!” I shrieked.
Everyone froze. They could see me getting angry as I did not consider this a small mistake. It was ruining my entire night, which hadn't even begun! Laurent, who is a personal friend and knows exactly how I operate, quickly stepped in.
“Don’t worry, Eloise, I can fix this. We just need to remove the train completely. It's all we can do at this time,” he said, his voice calm as he nervously started snipping the delicate threads connecting the damaged fabric. His hands were visibly shaking, trying not to damage it any further.
The housemaid, a young woman named Maria, managed to get an apology out.
“I am sorry, ma’am…”
“You are so fired! Get the hell out of my sight!” I shouted, my short temper exploding. I didn’t have time for her incompetence.
She walked away, tears streaming down her face. For a second, I felt guilty for being so harsh, but it vanished quickly. My life isn't like other people's lives. I couldn't be burdened with people who failed to meet my standard of expectations.
Laurent managed to save my dress, but without the train, it didn't have the same majestic effect as before. It would have to do.
My driver drove up to the Thorne Tower Plaza, and as I exited the car, the cameras started to flash. The scene was the typical celebrities of who’s who and a crowd of photographers eager for shots of actors, influencers, and socialites like myself.
The Gala itself had the theme "Future Elegance." The ballroom was decorated with holographic silk. The walls came alive with moving digital art and screamed exclusivity. Everyone praised me for my efforts in preparing for the gala, and I finished my speech about the cause and thanked all the guests for their contributions.
The official after-party was being held at the penthouse of Jaxon Reed, a billionaire music producer and well-known playboy. I certainly didn't want to arrive in a sedan with my chauffeur. I had them bring my personal Bugatti Chiron to the event garage for me.
I left the Gala with my closest friend, Isabelle Du Pont. She was a famous luxury travel influencer. We made our exit in the Bugatti, speeding off the minute the velvet rope was dropped. The cameras capturing my perfect, rebellious escape.
Jaxon, the ladies' man, approached me from across the room of his penthouse suite. He moved with a confidence that gave away his intentions. I knew that whatever happened between us wouldn't last beyond the night, yet I could immediately feel a rush of satisfaction. It was flattering that he had noticed me. I felt a sense of validation that made the eighty-thousand-dollar dress feel entirely worth it.
"Can I get you another drink?" he began, his voice a low, smooth tone that was clearly well-practised.
“Sure, why not?” I said and winked at him, which he took as a sign that I had consented to his agenda for the night, because when he returned with my drink, he took my hand and started leading me straight to his bedroom.
When he started to kiss me, he slipped something into my mouth, which I swallowed without question. The door opened, and another woman, whom I did not recognize, came inside.
"Ready for some fun?" Jaxon said.
Jaxon did the same to her as he did to me. He kissed her and slipped her the same pill. The woman then joined me on the bed as she started to kiss me passionately, something I had never done before. But I liked the adrenaline, the risk, the excitement.
The woman, whose name I don't even know, was orally pleasuring me so hard while Jaxon was taking her from behind that my entire body shook with satisfaction from an exploding orgasm.
"If you can excuse me, I need to get back to hosting my party,” Jaxon said, and then disappeared out the door, leaving me in the company of a stranger.
I smiled at her, and we both started to get dressed, but before we left the room, she walked towards me and kissed me.
‘Thanks for the fun, babe, maybe I will run into you again sometimes,” she said before leaving the room and then vanishing into the crowd.
When I went outside, people were jumping off the rooftop into the pool. Again, chasing the risk and the excitement fueled by the pill Jaxon had slipped me, I wanted to do it too. I did the same as the others, ran to get momentum to reach the pool, but as I launched, I slipped. I still made the pool, but only barely. One inch less, and I would have hit the slab around the pool.
Isabelle, seeing from a distance that I almost missed the pool, came running towards me;
“What the hell, Eloise, are you trying to get yourself killed? I think you have had enough fun for one night. Maybe we need to get home.”
This wasn't the city I remembered. This Miami was a masterpiece of order.The streets were too clean. There was no noise here, no shouting, no sirens, no music. Just the low hum of the Pulse, a frequency so subtle you felt it in your marrow rather than heard it with your ears."It’s wrong," Maya whispered, her hand instinctively going to her throat where the dampeners had once been.She looked at the passing citizens, their faces smoothed into masks of contentment."They’re not happy. They’re just... empty.""They’re synchronized," I said, pulling my hood lower to shadow my face."It’s a living infrastructure. The Pulse doesn't just block pain; it replaces the individual consciousness. If you step out of time, the Vanguard knows."We moved through the city, sticking to the shadows of the loading docks.
The five minutes we allowed ourselves had stretched into ten, but nobody complained. Watching Gideon and Maya hold onto each other made me realize that our war wasn't just about killing Silas Vance; it was about reclaiming the pieces of humanity he had shattered.The distant whine of a Vanguard drone-sweep echoed through the vents, a reminder that the hunt was still on.Maya finally pulled back, wiping her eyes. She stood up, her posture straighter, her Apex lethality replaced by a sharpened focus. She looked at me, then at the others."You mentioned Miami," Maya said, her voice steady now."Why? Why there? It’s the most heavily fortified Aegis Hub in the Western Hemisphere. It’s Silas’s private sanctuary."I stepped forward, pulling the obsidian black-box drive from my tactical vest."Because that’s where the pulse originates, Maya. S
Maya sat on the edge of a rusted technician’s chair, her eyes darting around the room with a feverish intensity.She looked at Gideon with the searing fire of a woman who had just been forced to watch her own childhood be murdered."You think this is a gift?" Maya’s voice was a jagged glass edge, cutting through the silence."You took me out of the fog. You took me out of the only place where I didn't have to feel the weight of what you’ve done."She stood up, her movements still possessing a lethal grace, and took a step toward Gideon.He flinched."I was a tool, yes," she continued,"But I didn't have to carry the knowledge that my own father was the architect of my damnation. You didn't save me, Gideon. You just condemned me to the truth. I would have rather stayed a mindless weapon f
We had left a trail of butchered Vanguard soldiers across the industrial sector, a bloody scar that told Silas exactly what we were: a pack of wolves who had finally decided to bite back.But we were running on fumes. Our weapons were spent, our bodies were shredded."The drive," I said, my voice barely audible over the wind as we crouched in the skeleton of a pre-war manufacturing plant."Gideon. You said you kept the records. Where is the black box?"Gideon, huddled near a pile of rusted iron, looked up with eyes that had seen too much. He didn't have his usual smirk. He had only a frantic, desperate need to survive."It’s in a safehouse, three klicks north. In an old Aegis observation post. It’s not just transit data, Eloise. It’s the original neural-mapping of every Apex citizen. Their names, their families, their actual, unfiltered memories from the moment they were wiped.""That’s our lever," Cane said, his golden eyes scanning the horizon."If we broadcast those memories, the P
The Interceptor-6’s swept the surface of the mangrove roots, looking for movement.Beside me, Cane was a submerged mountain. His hand was clamped over my forearm, his grip firm and steadying, grounding me in the freezing muck.The hum of the drone&r
Two months have passed since the Arena was destroyed.I was sliding out from under the chassis of a custom-built Scout Bobber. My once-manicured hands were permanently stained with black oil, and my white-blonde hair was pulled back into a messy knot. I didn't care.We were deep in the "Black Zone"
The Neural Anchor lay crushed in Cane’s palm, a useless tangle of wires and Gore.But the fight wasn't over.The remaining five Iron Claw wolves, seeing their "commander" Vane freed from the machine, didn't retreat. They snarled, their conditioning fighting against their sudden lack of direction."
I was pinned. My shoulders were screaming, a throbbing ache radiating from where my wrists were lashed to the steel of the bedpost. The industrial zip-ties were unforgiving; every time I tried to test the tension, the plastic teeth clicked into the next notch, biting deeper into my skin until I c






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