Chapter 3 3

Layla

"I can't zip it!"

Meredith hissed, her hands clutching the sides of her cream-colored silk dress in front of her bedroom mirror.

"Layla, hurry, my hips are wider than they were last month!"

I stepped up behind her, grabbing the zipper and pulling it up with a firm tug until it clicked into place at the small of her back.

"There. You're zipped."

Meredith turned around, checking her reflection. "How do I look? Be honest."

"You look gorgeous," I smiled, adjusting the neckline. "Though I still can't believe Marcus wore that cheap suit. I mean, seriously? The same suit from our wedding? That man doesn't have an original bone in his body."

"He's so fucking cheap," Meredith groaned, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her bouquet of white roses. "Okay. Wish me luck. I'm going to go tie myself to a fool for business logistics."

"Good luck, mama," I laughed, squeezing her hand.

I walked out to the backyard and stood near the back row of folding chairs.

There was no music, no grand entrance. Meredith walked down the short grass aisle by herself, her chin held high, while Marcus stood at the makeshift altar looking like he wanted everyone to clap for him.

As the officiant began reading the standard pack marriage vows, I leaned against a wooden pillar, completely tuning out the words.

Standing there in my dark green dress, watching my best friend get married, a strange, hollow ache settled deep into my chest.

I didn't care about Marcus not even a little bit. But watching them stand up there reminded me of the brutal reality of my existence.

I had lived for over a thousand years. I had watched empires rise and fall, watched generations of packs grow old and die, while I remained stuck, frozen in time, carrying a curse that was slowly ticking down to my final months.

I was completely, utterly alone.

I hadn't found the three fragments of the Moon’s Soul. I hadn't broken my curse. And if I didn't find them soon, my immortal life would end as a fragile, tailless human, wiped out by the three goddesses who had stolen everything from me.

When the ceremony ended and the guests moved toward the small buffet table, I walked over to Meredith and gave her a quick hug.

"I'm leaving," I whispered in her ear.

Meredith pulled back, looking surprised. "Already? You don't want to stay for cake?"

"Nah. I need some air," I smiled softly, patting her cheek. "Enjoy your night, bride."

I walked out to my car, pulled out of the driveway, and just drove. I didn't have a destination in mind. I just drove away from the pack territory, crossing the border into the city neon lights of modern North America.

Forty minutes later, I found myself pulling up near the industrial district down by the docks.

A low, heavy rumble of motorcycle engines echoed through the air. Neon red light bled out of a basement entrance tucked beneath an old warehouse, marked only by a steel sign: THE BLEEDING STONE.

It was an underground biker club a territory controlled by dark, rogue shifters and dangerous humans. A place an Alpha Queen definitely shouldn't be wandering into alone.

Perfect, I thought with a dark smirk.

I parked my car, stepped out into the cool night air, and walked down the concrete stairs. Two massive Bouncers barred the entrance, looking me up and down.

"Private club, sweetheart," one of them rumbled, his eyes lingering on my curves. "Members only."

"I'm part of anything I want to be," I said, my voice dripping with pure, unyielding Alpha authority.

My deep blue eyes flashed with a subtle divine glint, and I pushed right past them.

They froze, completely intimidated by the sheer aura radiating off me, and let the heavy metal doors swing open.

The club was dark, loud, and heavy with the scent of leather, expensive whiskey, and powerful male wolf pheromones.

Rock music thundered through the speakers, and the air was thick with tension.

I walked straight to the long mahogany bar, perching on a high stool. The bartender didn't even ask questions he just poured a shot of top-shelf whiskey and set it in front of me, clearly sensing I wasn't someone to mess with.

I tossed the shot back, letting the burn settle in my throat, and turned around to scan the room. I headed to the bar and ordered some drinks, downing about two glasses before I started looking around again.

That's when I saw them.

Sitting in a massive VIP leather booth in the back corner of the club were three men.

They looked like they had been sculpted from dark marble and sin.

They were broad-shouldered, impossibly broad, radiating an overwhelming, suffocating pressure that made every other shifter in the room keep a respectful distance.

The one sitting in the middle had dark hair, dark green eyes, and a cold, distrusting expression that could freeze fire.

To his left was a man with slicked-back brown curls, sharp hazel eyes, and a neat, precise posture that screamed calculated danger.

To his right was a massive, heavily tattooed brute with a black buzzcut, dark eyes, and an arrogant, sarcastic smirk playing on his lips.

My breath caught in my throat. The air in the club suddenly felt thick, heavy with an electric charge that made the hair on my arms stand up.

I didn't hesitate. I mean I had liquid confidence now.

I picked up my glass, slid off the barstool, and strutted directly toward their booth.

Two gorgeous blonde women who had been trying to flirt with them were currently being ignored by the trio. I stopped right at the edge of their table, resting a hand on my hip, letting my eyes rake over all three of them.

"Hey," I drawled, my voice low and velvety. "Are you guys alone? Because I'd hate for men like you to be bored for too long."

The green-eyed one in the middle glanced up, his dark gaze icy and completely unimpressed. "Not interested, sweetheart. Run along."

I didn't back down. I let out a low, sultry laugh, unbuttoning the dark green jacket over my dress and letting it slide off my shoulders onto the leather booth, exposing my full cleavage, tiny waist, and soft, voluptuous curves.

"I get what I want," I purred, leaning down slightly over the table, my deep blue eyes locking onto theirs. "And honestly? Those girls look like they're boring you to death. Why don't you have a taste of a real woman?"

The arrogant one with the tattoos stopped twirling his glass. His black eyes widened slightly, dropping down to my chest before rising to meet my face.

The quiet one with hazel eyes, stiffened, his nostrils flaring as he took in my scent.

A heavy, dangerous silence fell over the table as all three brothers stared at me, their cold demeanor shattering in an instant under the sheer weight of my presence.

The green eyes darkened, a low, guttural growl rumbling deep within his chest. He looked back at the others. And they all looked back at me.

“Yeah okay. We'll bite.”