EllaThe dim light of the restroom cast shadows that danced eerily across the ornate walls. I stood there, staring blankly at the face reflected back at me from the gilded mirror. The hushed whispers of the escorts in the adjacent stalls echoed painfully in my mind, punctuated by the occasional muted giggle from the ballroom outside.A world of stark contrasts.My heart thudded painfully, each beat screaming a desperate question. What could I, Ella, do in a world of opulence, where beneath the surface, darkness thrived?“Ella.” The soft, husky voice in my mind was familiar, comforting. Ema always seemed to speak up when I was in turmoil, a constant friend and source of reason. “These women… they need our help.”I closed my eyes, trying to still the tumultuous emotions raging within. “It’s not our world, Ema. Interfering might bring danger to us and them.”There was a pause, and when Ema spoke, there was a gentle conviction in her tone. “We are strong, Ella. We are wolf and woman. Thes
EllaThe stretcher bearing the injured man maneuvered its way through the crowd. The room seemed to be in slow motion, with each passing second feeling like an eternity. The stark contrast of the man’s bloodied face against the pristine backdrop of the opulent ballroom was a sight that would stay with me for a long time.Logan, ever the picture of calm, nonchalantly picked up a white cloth napkin from a nearby table. With deliberate strokes, he began to clean the blood from his knuckles. To the casual observer, it would seem like he was simply wiping away a spill from dinner. But I knew better.A well-dressed man approached Logan, a smirk playing on his lips.“Well done, Logan,” he said, clapping him on the back with an almost brotherly familiarity. “That guy was a real Class A pest. Maybe now he’ll finally learn his lesson.”Logan just nodded, his face expressionless. He said nothing; there was nothing he could say. It wasn’t exactly like he could reveal that he had beat up a man for
LoganThe symphony of the ballroom surrounded us: the gentle murmur of voices, the soft clink of glasses, and the mesmerizing notes of the orchestra weaving a spell around the dancing couples.But amidst all the sounds, there was a silence, a charged void, between Ella and me.Every step we took, every turn, and every glide was a wordless conversation.My wolf, always alert beneath the surface, yearned to entangle with hers, to join in a dance of their own. I could feel the pull, the almost magnetic attraction between our two spirits, and it was maddening.“I wish she would let me in,” my wolf complained, his voice a growl in the back of my mind as it mirrored my own turmoil. “Just for a moment.”“I know,” I answered. “She’s a fortress.”No matter what I did, Ella and her wolf resisted. There was a barrier, a wall she had erected, both to protect herself and to maintain a distance from the chaos of my world.My wolf growled low in frustration, longing to bridge that gap, to assert our
EllaThe bar was dimly lit, its ambiance intensified by the low hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and the soft strains of ambient music. Golden chandeliers, casting sporadic glows, adorned the room, contrasting the otherwise dark woodwork.I felt the cool leather of the bar stool beneath me as I observed the people around, each of them engrossed in their own narratives, oblivious to mine.It’s amazing how, even in a room full of people, you can feel alone, disconnected. My fingers absentmindedly played with the stem of my wine glass as I lost myself in my thoughts, waiting for Logan to return.“Is this seat taken?” The voice was suave, a touch too smooth. Turning slightly, I found myself looking up at a tall man, his finely tailored suit hinting at wealth and power.I gave a noncommittal shrug. “It’s free.”He grinned, revealing perfectly aligned teeth. “You’re Logan Barrett’s, aren’t you?” There was a knowing glint in his eyes, as though he believed he had already figured me ou
EllaThe laughter from Logan was unexpected—a short burst, barely audible over the ambient hum of the bar's patrons.“You’re very funny, Ella,” he said, shaking his head.I sat up straighter, leveling Logan with an icy stare. “I’m dead serious, Logan.”His blue eyes bore into mine, trying to gauge if I was joking. “You? A gun?”“Yes,” I replied, unwavering. “Growing up, my father made sure I took shooting lessons. For self-defense. Your bodyguard has an extra pistol, doesn't he?”Logan’s expression shifted from amusement to contemplation. “You truly think you can handle it?”“I wouldn’t be asking if I couldn’t.”He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Alright. But you’ll have to prove yourself first.”“Prove myself how?” I laughed, looking around. “Don’t tell me your next big reveal of the night is for me to shoot the pimp that’s been standing in the corner and giving you dirty glares since you beat up one of his customers.”Logan’s face turned a slight shade of red, but only
EllaThe transition from the basement’s cool, rustic ambiance to the vibrancy of the party was almost jarring. As Logan and I re-entered the ballroom, I was immediately struck by the whirl of colors, the soft strains of music, and the kaleidoscope of voices melding together in a symphony of laughter and chatter.From the throng emerged a familiar face. Leonard Barrett, Logan’s father, with his steel-gray hair slicked back, and a tall, commanding presence. His piercing blue eyes, which Logan had apparently inherited, immediately locked onto mine.I had met the man once before, and our encounter hadn't been the warmest. His reputation in the business world as a ruthless mogul was well-earned, but in person, it was his charisma that was truly overpowering.“Ah, Ella,” Leonard greeted, the corner of his lips turning up slightly. “You look even more radiant than when I last saw you.”I offered a polite smile, trying to keep my composure in front of the daunting Mafia boss. “Thank you, Mr.
EllaThe cold, salty breeze that brushed against my face as we arrived at the docks was a stark, but welcoming, contrast to the stifling warmth of the party. The night was dark, the water shimmering faintly under the moonlight.Moored ahead of us was an enormous yacht, its sprawling length dotted with sparkling lights, making it look like a floating palace.“God, how big is this thing?” I whispered, taking in the sheer size of the vessel.“That’s my brother’s taste for you,” Logan murmured, his voice a mix of amusement and exasperation.The yacht, named The Serpent’s Charm, was truly an epitome of luxury and excess. After a tour of the sprawling main deck, Logan led me towards the interior, with a promise of showing the opulence that lay within.Opening a double door adorned with intricate golden patterns, we entered the grand lounge. It was vast, stretching wide with plush velvet couches and a massive crystal chandelier hanging above. On the far end was a bar, its shelves stocked wit
EllaThe luxuriousness of the suite was quickly overshadowed by the cold weight of Marina’s smirk, the shine of my pistol in her hands contrasting sharply with the opulent interior.My heart leaped into my throat. In my haste, I had left my purse on the bed, so consumed by the idea of wearing the ridiculous bikini.“Give that back, Marina,” I hissed, too tense to even move.Marina smirked. “Well, well,” she said, letting the pistol dangle dangerously with her finger in the trigger guard. “Color me surprised. Ella Morgan keeps a gun in her purse. It’s like… finding a snake in a flower patch.”I felt my throat constrict. Ema urged me to lunge for the gun, but I knew that it was dangerous.“Just… Put it back,” I said. “Please.”“I have to know, though,” she said. “Why do you have a pistol in your purse, Ella?” Marina asked, her voice dripping with faux sweetness, as she fingered the gun.Drawing on every ounce of calm I could muster, I replied, “It’s just for safety. I always keep one on