Time to Work

Lucille lifted her glass to her lips, the cold water a fleeting refreshment, grounding her in the noise and chaos of the nightclub. She leaned back into the leather of the sofa, the material worn and slightly sticky, her gaze skimming the bodies moving in rhythmic chaos on the dance floor. The heavy throb of bass shook the floor beneath her feet, each beat vibrating through her chest. She hated this place—the air was stale and thick, saturated with the mingling scents of alcohol, sweat, and an undercurrent of lust that prickled uncomfortably at her senses. Yet if there was one place where outsider wolves might appear, it was here. If any locals were aware of brewing trouble, their lips might loosen over a drink or two, making this repugnant environment Lucille’s most likely source of information.

Her girls, a handful of strong and capable packmates, sat nearby, chatting among themselves as though they had come simply to enjoy a night out. Lucille admired their resilience; though they too despised this task, they blended effortlessly, laughing and engaging in playful gossip. Their easy banter was a cover, but it made them adaptable—a strength that set them apart. “You never know,” one of the girls teased, laughter sparkling in her eyes, “one of these strangers might be my mate one day, and he’ll whisk me away from all this.” The others chuckled, though the notion seemed distant, a fantasy meant to lighten the mood. Yet Lucille knew that if any of her girls found such a chance, she would gladly let them go. Anything to spare them from one-sided claimings or the life of servitude they risked here. She took another sip of water, savouring the clear taste that helped her keep her focus, then breathed deeply, reaching out with her mind.

Any updates? she linked to Serena, her closest friend and right hand.

Nothing so far, came Serena’s quick reply, her tone clipped but tinged with boredom.

Lucille slouched in her chair, suppressing a sigh. They had been here two hours already, eyes scanning the room for anything unusual, but the scene was painfully familiar. Nothing but dancers lost in their own worlds and locals who’d had one drink too many. Nearing one in the morning, she considered sending the girls home—there was no reason for them all to waste their night waiting on nothing. A few of them had wandered to the dance floor to blow off steam, and she observed as some nearby males, who had been eyeing them for a while, finally approached.

“Can we buy you ladies a drink?” one of the men asked with a slanted grin.

Lucille turned, her gaze cold and unyielding. The male’s bravado faltered, his expression shifting to discomfort. He fidgeted nervously, the scent of submission suddenly filling the air, and stammered an apology as he bowed his head, muttering something about not recognising her.

She paid him no further attention, her focus shifting back to the entrance. The nightclub doors swung open, and three male wolves entered, their scents new and different from the usual patrons. They were unfamiliar, and their powerful presence was immediately noticeable, as though they didn’t belong here. Lucille’s gaze sharpened as she locked eyes with one of her girls across the room, gesturing towards the entrance. The girl glanced at the newcomers, immediately recognising the situation, and nudged her companion to join her as they casually made their way towards the bar where the newcomers stood.

Three unknown males just walked in, she linked to Serena, her tone alert.

New pack members? Serena asked, her curiosity piqued.

Unlikely, Lucille replied. I greeted the new arrivals this morning. Any strangers would need to report directly to Joseph or Cacey.

Damn. I was hoping tonight would amount to nothing.

It still might, Lucille offered, though her instincts told her otherwise.

No chance, Serena sighed. Once Joseph finds out, he’ll want answers until his curiosity is satisfied.

Oh, ye of little faith, Lucille chuckled, injecting a lightness into the link. You know I always get him the answers he needs.

True, Serena replied, a hint of humour slipping into her tone. Well, what are you waiting for? Go get ’em, girl!

Is that any way to speak to your Luna?

Please. I’ve said worse to you, Serena retorted, amusement evident even through the link.

Lucille smirked, the exchange momentarily easing her tension. She turned her attention back to the strangers, watching as her girls engaged two of them at the bar. The females’ flirtatious laughter drifted across the room, as casual hands landed on the men’s arms, and coy smiles hinted at more than mere interest. It was part of the game, an act they had perfected to disarm and extract information. But it was the third male who piqued her interest. He stood slightly apart from his companions, his gaze roving the room as though he were searching for someone—or something.

Lucille raised a brow, studying him. There was a subtle power in the way he held himself, an alertness that suggested he was no ordinary visitor. And his scent—clean, refined, yet wholly unfamiliar—caught her attention even more. Unlike a rogue, whose scent usually carried hints of desperation or restlessness, this male smelled of something different. He didn’t share the same scent as his companions either, a fact that raised more questions than answers. Were they from different packs? Allies, perhaps, or wolves sent to scout together? If so, Joseph would have his own suspicions, and Lucille knew he would want answers.

The lone wolf’s gaze swept over the room, pausing as his eyes met hers. Lucille straightened slightly, her green eyes narrowing as they locked with his, and neither looked away. His expression was calm, unyielding, yet in the glint of his eyes she sensed an intensity, a curiosity that matched her own. She held his gaze, refusing to flinch, every instinct alert, assessing him even as he did the same. This was no casual encounter; she felt the warning in her gut, the spark of intuition that told her he was here with purpose.

Well, this might actually get interesting, she thought, a small smile touching her lips. There was something about him that felt like a harbinger, a sign of the unexpected, and she felt a ripple of excitement stir within her. In a world where every encounter could mean the difference between alliance and threat, she knew she would need all her wits tonight.

This night, she realised, was far from over.