Phantom Club
I sat on the sofa, a variety of drinks scattered on the table. Luan was busy mixing them into some high-alcohol concoction.
Of course, for werewolves, human alcohol was useless—it couldn't get us drunk.
Out on the dance floor, Luan and Mia danced to the music, their bodies swaying in rhythm with the crowd.
"You look upset," Eileen leaned in and shouted over the pounding music.
"It's too stuffy in here. I need some fresh air," I said, already moving toward the door.
The thick smell of smoke and perfume made it impossible to relax. My thoughts kept turning back to Raymond.
The truth was, I didn't know much about him.
Outside, in the club's garden, the air was cool and refreshing. Through the glass windows, I could still see the chaos of the dance floor, everyone moving wildly under the flashing lights.
It was surprisingly quiet out here, not a single soul in sight. I found a swing and sat down, sipping my drink while looking at the stars.
The moment felt peaceful, enough to calm me down—until a noise broke the silence.
"Shall we finish them all?"
"Yeah… no survivors."
The voices were low and calm, carrying a power that quieted everything around it.
Then it struck me—the voice, deep and commanding, was one I knew all too well. It was him.
My body froze.
"Don't leave any evidence." The voice was calm but terrifying.
It was Raymond!
There was no mistaking it. That was his voice, but it was colder—completely unlike the man I thought I knew.
I swallowed hard, instinctively stepping back, my body trembling with fear.
I shouldn't be here. I needed to leave, but my feet felt stuck, and I couldn't breathe.
Pressing myself into the shadows, I looked ahead.
A group of men in black suits stood in tight formation, looking intimidating. Bodies were on the ground, unmoving. Blood spread across the pavement.
The scene was horrifying.
I covered my mouth to hold back a scream. My heart pounded wildly as I tried to make sense of the scene before me.
In the middle of it all, there was a man with slicked-back black hair, his stance strong and full of authority.
He held a silver handgun in his hand, and a nearby subordinate lit the cigarette at his lips. The flame flickered, illuminating his face—sharp, chiseled, and strikingly handsome.
His green eyes, cold and piercing like polished emeralds, locked into mine, sending chills down my spine.
It was Raymond.
No matter how much I wanted to deny it, it was him.
The man who used to pat my head with a smile felt so far away from this cold, ruthless figure in front of me.
But his face…
For a moment, I wondered if he had a twin or if there was some other reason for this drastic change.
Then, before I could even blink—our eyes met.
This time, I couldn't hide my fear. My legs went limp, and a scream escaped my mouth.
All of a sudden, all eyes turned to me.
I scrambled to my feet, but Raymond's overwhelming presence pinned me in place.
At that moment, my wolf Lily whimpered in fear; she was frightened.
Even more than when we faced Beth's father, Joseph!!!
Who is he?!
Fear and confusion swirled in my mind as I stumbled back to the club.
Raymond's POV
I watched Caitlyn run off in panic and raised a hand to stop my men.
"No need."
"Was that her?" Beta Allen asked, frowning. He'd only seen the Luna a few times and hadn't made the connection.
"Should we handle it?"
"No." I shook my head. My chest tightened. Earlier, I'd sensed someone nearby—someone I knew all too well.
It was Caitlyn. I hadn't expected to see her here, and when our eyes met, her fear hit me harder than I'd expected.
Her eyes—amber, bright, always mesmerizing—had been filled with fear.
It wasn't how I wanted her to find out. I'd planned to tell her the truth when the time was right.
"You scared her off," Lucas said. He'd been complaining to me for days now, especially since last night.
The truth was, I wanted to be with Caitlyn.
But not like this—not without her knowing the truth.
I sighed. "Take care of things here. I'll go after her."
I walked out and saw her hurrying away, her movements tense and unsteady.
I had the driver pull up next to her. When I rolled down the window, she froze. Her pretty little face showed a flash of panic, like a frightened kitten.
"Get in the car," I said gently.
She hesitated, staring at me like she was trying to figure out who I was—the cold man she'd just seen or the husband she thought she knew.
Finally, she climbed in, but she pressed herself against the door, as far away from me as possible.
On the way home, it was quiet.
When we got back, she tried to keep her voice calm. "I'm so tired. I should get some rest."
I reached for her hand and stood up, leaving the wheelchair behind. Her eyes went wide, and she stammered, "Y-you…"
Her voice trailed off as if she wanted to pretend none of it had happened—as if by morning, we could both forget everything.
But I couldn't wait any longer.
I'd spent too much time holding back, pretending to be someone else.
I looked into her eyes and said, "The person you saw… was me."