Semua Bab Alpha Santa : Bab 21 - Bab 30

PiperI haven’t eaten. I haven’t slept. My body is running on nothing but nerves and guilt. Ever since the director carried Zoe out of that blood-soaked room, I foolishly stayed out of his way, assuming they needed privacy. But now… now, I have no idea where she is.What was I thinking, trusting her safety to a man again? Even if he is the director of the hotel, there’s something off about him. The way his eyes burned red, the way his anger felt almost… feral. He reminds me of someone.Elijah.The thought of him claws its way into my mind, and suddenly I want to see him. His infuriating smirk, his cryptic remarks that always kept me guessing, even the way he always seemed to show up when I least expected him. Oddly enough, I miss him. And maybe… maybe he could help me. If anyone could figure out where the director is keeping Zoe, it would be Elijah since he works here.But a chilling thought strikes me: I don’t know where he stays. I don’t know where he sleeps. I know nothing about th

I keep my gaze fixed on Elijah, searching his face for any crack in his composure, signs of discomfort or unease. His expression is unreadable—calm, almost too calm—and it’s starting to grate on my nerves. I repeat my question softly but firmly."Do you believe in werewolves?"For a moment, his face remains perfectly still, like he’s weighing his next move. Then there’s the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth followed by a long, loaded pause.His silence is telling.A normal person like me would have laughed, scoffed, or brushed it off and said, Of course not. But Elijah? His stillness betrays him. He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t dismiss the absurdity. If anything, his blood seems to run cold, and for a brief second, I see a flicker of something in his eyes—fear, or maybe recognition, which tells me that he does, in fact, believe.Finally, he breaks the silence with a smirk, though it feels more like a mask than a genuine expression as it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Oh, I belie

I walk up to Elijah, feeling my long sleeves brushing against my wrists as I grip the hidden silver fork tightly underneath. My black dress flows lightly around my ankles, its sheer overlay catching the faint light from the hotel entrance. The deep, earthy green embroidery along the bodice makes me feel a little too dressed up, but the sleeves? They’re non-negotiable. My hair is loosely pinned up, a few tendrils framing my face. I might look confident, but inside, my nerves are a jumbled mess.Elijah, standing by the entrance, is an entirely different picture. He’s wearing a leather jacket, perfectly fitted over a white T-shirt that highlights the strength of his broad shoulders. His dark jeans sit snugly, casual but maddeningly attractive. His blue eyes glow faintly under the dim hotel lights, and for a moment, I’m struck speechless. He looks like he walked straight out of a dream—or a nightmare, depending on whether or not he’s what I fear he is.“Wow… you look like a witch,” Elijah

ElijahThe sharp stench of rogues slams into my nostrils, vile and unmistakable. The putrid mix of rotting flesh, decay, and blood churns my stomach, threatening to make me gag. Even from miles away, I know exactly what it means.They don’t belong here.I grit my teeth and inhale deeply, forcing myself to focus despite the nausea rolling through me. “Rogues,” I mutter under my breath. “Of all the times.”Perfect timing. Just perfect.The air feels heavier, crackling with tension as I try to process what this means. Rogues in the human world? That shouldn’t be possible. There are only two ways to cross into this realm, and neither is easy—or permissible.The first is through a mystical portal or gateway. It’s how my men and I entered this world—the only lawful way. That’s why I’ve placed paintings of wolves throughout my hotel. They’re more than decoration; they’re pathways, serving as bridges between the two realms, allowing us to shift into human form and blend in unnoticed.But the

Piper I stop halfway through my meal, my stomach twisting and nausea crawling up my throat. The food that had once looked so perfect now feels heavy, unbearable. I set the fork down with a quiet clink and push the plate away. I can't eat anymore. Not without feeling like I'll throw up.“I’m okay,” I say quickly, though I don’t feel it at all.Elijah doesn’t argue. He nods once, then he lifts a hand to signal someone. A quiet knock follows, and a staff member enters to clear the plate. I keep my eyes fixed on my lap as the food disappears. My hands feel clammy. My heart feels... heavy.When the room falls quiet again, I take a breath and swing my legs off the bed, the floor cold against my bare feet. I move carefully, testing him, waiting for his hand to shoot out and stop me. But it doesn’t come.He takes a step back, his face impassive, as if he’s giving me all the space in the world. As if he’s keeping his promise to let me go. For a second, I hesitate. My chest tightens with the