Lost Identity!

The Eloise the world once knew no longer existed.

Curled into the corner of the damp prison cell, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, Eloise stared at nothing. He did it... He really did it. I don’t exist anymore. Her chest tightened. Not from the cold, but from something far worse. Emptiness.

Who am I now? she thought. A ghost... a forgotten girl rotting in a cell like trash.

The metallic clang of heavy boots echoed in the corridor the next morning. Then, suddenly a harsh shove knocked her over.

“Hey! Wake up, rat! Go clean the damn bathroom!” a rough voice barked.

A scream followed. “She’s..... she’s dead!”

Someone else scurried over, kneeling beside Eloise’s still form.

“Shut up!” snapped another voice. “She’s breathing. Look, barely. But she’s alive.”

A guard was called. The door slammed open. But nobody comforted her. No one touched her gently. Why would they? She wasn’t Eloise anymore. She was just an inmate. Just a criminal.

---

Three years later…

The streets felt foreign beneath her bare, cracked feet. Eloise shuffled through the crowd, a tattered plastic bag clutched in one hand. It held the sum of her life noe, three dollars and an old, wrinkled ID card. Her skin was pale, bruised in places, and a scar about two centimeters long slashed across her cheek, a permanent reminder of who she used to be… and who she could never be again.

She paused at a shop window. Her reflection stared back, thin, hollow-eyed, a shadow of the Alpha’s daughter she once was. She blinked slowly, then turned her attention to a worn-out flyer taped to the glass.

“Cleaners Wanted. Lodging and Lunch Provided.”

Her lips parted slightly. A whisper of a laugh escaped.

“Lodging and lunch… what a luxury,” she murmured, then pushed open the heavy glass door beneath the sign marked: Club Scarlet Heart.

A blast of cold air slapped her across the face. Shivering, she stepped inside.

A sleek woman behind the front counter looked up with narrowed eyes. Her lips curled in annoyance.

“Name,” she snapped.

“Eloise,” came the reply, hoarse, gravelly, the sound of ruin.

The woman blinked in surprise and nearly dropped her pen. “What the hell happened to your voice?” Her tone dripped with disgust.

Eloise didn’t flinch. “Smoke,” she replied plainly. “It damaged my throat.”

The woman tilted her head, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You mean… a fire?”

Eloise nodded once. “Yes. A fire.”

The air went tense. The woman tapped the pen against her clipboard, staring hard.

“Scarlet Heart isn’t a normal club,” she said finally, her voice sharper. “Our guests are… special.”

“I’m not applying to be a hostess,” Eloise said quietly. “Just a cleaner.”

The woman’s brows lifted. She gave Eloise a once-over, her lip curling again.

“You don’t even look like you belong in this building. You’re not fit to be a waitress, let alone....”

“I said I’ll clean,” Eloise interrupted. Her voice cracked mid-sentence, but her gaze remained steady.

“I’d be an escort if I could,” she added bitterly. “But I know what I look like. I’m not here to pretend I’m something I’m not. I just need work… and a bed.”

The woman stared. For a moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, she sat back down, picked up the pen, and scribbled something on the paper.

“You’re hired,” she said bluntly.

Eloise’s brows furrowed. She hadn’t expected that. The woman looked up again, eyes sharp. “Do you know why I’m giving you a chance?”

Eloise remained silent.

“Because you’re real,” the woman said. “You know what you are. Most girls walk in here with makeup thick enough to paint a car and dreams bigger than their talent. You’re… different.”

“I don’t have dreams anymore,” Eloise said softly. The woman hesitated. “I’m Rachael. You’ll report to me.”

Eloise gave a slight nod.

“And another thing,” Rachael added, her tone lower now, almost cautious. “Scarlet Heart… isn’t just a club. Not for humans. You… human?”

Eloise smiled faintly. “Does it matter?”

Rachael blinked, then turned away. “Just follow the rules.”

Over the next few months, Eloise worked in silence. She scrubbed, wiped, cleaned, and endured. She didn’t speak much. She didn't look anyone in the eye. And that made her the perfect target.

“You’re in my way again, scum.”

A waitress bumped into her, hard. “Move faster, rat. I’ll tell Rachael you’re slacking off.”

“Didn’t you see how ugly she was? I heard she had no home or family”

“Yeah, she doesn't even look human or werewolf. She’s barely even one of us anymore.”

The voices buzzed around her like flies. She kept her head down. No response. Not anymore.

“Look at her… so pathetic.”

But the worst was when she realized the others were right, her wolf, her spirit, her strength, it was fading. She could no longer feel it stir inside her. One morning, she tried to shift, to connect, to feel but there was only silence.

Eloise was no longer a werewolf.

.....

One afternoon, while she was cleaning near the bar, a waitress stormed over.

“VIP Room. Wine spill. Go clean it up.”

Eloise nodded. “Alright.”

The waitress scoffed. “Again with the damn silence. You really are creepy. If I were you, I’d just jump off a cliff.”

Eloise didn’t respond.

“Hey! Are you even listening?” The waitress shoved her shoulder. “Slacking off again? You think you’re above this?”

“No,” Eloise said simply.

“Hmph. You better not ruin this job too. Go take the cargo elevator. You stink.”

Eloise blinked. “I don’t.....”

“You heard me! Go!”

Without another word, she turned and walked toward the back hallway. It doesn’t matter. Let them say what they want.

The elevator doors creaked open. She froze.

Inside the dim-lit cargo elevator, a tall man was pressing a curvy woman against the wall. Their kiss was slow and deep, heated and shameless. The woman’s moans echoed off the steel walls. Eloise stood frozen. I shouldn’t be here. But her legs refused to move.

The man’s hand slid along the woman’s thigh. His voice was low. “You’re making too much noise.”

The woman giggled. “You started it.”

Eloise turned, ready to walk away quietly. Then the man’s head lifted, and his gaze locked with hers. Eloise’s heart stopped.

She knew that look. That power. That unmistakable aura. He’s an Alpha.

Her breathing hitched. She backed away a step.

The woman turned lazily, glancing at Eloise. “Ugh, a cleaner? Seriously?” she sneered, pulling her dress back over her shoulder.

But the man hadn’t looked away. His eyes bore into Eloise like he was trying to remember something. Her scar. Her eyes. Her silence.

“You,” he said, voice sharp.

Eloise’s hands gripped the mop handle tighter.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt......”