Chapter 2

Natasha's POV

The black sedan drove away as I looked down at the scattered bills on the ground, my cheeks burning with humiliation and anger.

All werewolves are arrogant bastards.

I struggled to my feet, deliberately stepping on the money. What did he take me for, a street beggar? I continued walking aimlessly, letting the wound on my leg bleed. Nobody in this world cares about a human's pain anyway.

Byron's voice echoed in my mind: "You're just a useless human!" Five years of feelings, what a colossal joke.

After walking for who knows how long, the persistent pain forced me to stop. Looking up, I saw a high-end bar in front of me. Drowning my sorrows seemed perfect for my current state.

I had barely approached the entrance when two security guards in black suits blocked my path. One of them wrinkled his nose slightly, the telltale sign of a werewolf identifying a human.

"Members only," the tall one said flatly, his eyes sweeping contemptuously over my disheveled appearance.

I clutched my credit card tightly, "I can pay."

"Paying members, werewolves only." The guard's voice was final.

Just as I was about to turn away, a deep male voice came from inside the bar.

"Let her in."

The guards immediately stepped aside, and I turned to find the source of the voice.

The man stood in the soft light inside the doorway, tall and strong, with broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, his perfectly tailored black suit outlining his perfect form. His face was like carefully carved marble—a defined jaw, high cheekbones, and steel-blue eyes like winter storms, sharp and penetrating. His black hair was swept back, revealing a thin scar above his left eyebrow.

But most striking was the moonstone ring glinting on his right hand—the same ring that had thrown money at me in the parking lot.

"You look like you need a drink," he said.

His tone was so condescending, but I did need a drink, and I wasn't sure the next bar would let a human in.

"Thank you," I replied stiffly, walking past him into the bar.

The bar's decor was elegant—dark wood, leather, and soft lighting creating a luxurious atmosphere. Someone played piano in the corner while patrons conversed in hushed tones. Almost everyone was a werewolf.

"What would you like to drink?" the bartender asked.

"A gin and tonic, thank you."

A few minutes later, I was holding my drink, trying to relax in my seat without looking out of place. My eyes involuntarily searched for that man—he sat in the VIP area in the corner, surrounded by several important-looking werewolves engaged in animated discussion.

Occasionally he would look up, his gaze sweeping across the entire bar, lingering slightly when it reached me. Each time this happened, my heart would race, and I wasn't sure if that was due to fear or something else.

"Natasha..."

Hearing this familiar voice, I froze. I slowly turned to see Byron standing there, his eyes filled with remorse.

"Are you following me?" I asked coldly.

"No, it's not like that," he hurriedly said, "I've been looking for you. I made a terrible mistake, Natasha, I shouldn't have treated you that way."

He truly looked disheveled—his hair was messy, his shirt wrinkled, and his eyes bloodshot. But I couldn't forget what I had seen in the parking lot two hours ago.

"Please leave, Byron," I said calmly, "We have nothing more to say to each other."

"Please," he pleaded quietly, sitting on the barstool next to me, "Just listen to my explanation. Eileen was just using me, she never intended to help me, she just wanted..." his voice dropped, "I was blinded by her status and promises, I never meant to hurt you."

"But you did hurt me," I looked directly into his eyes, "You called me just a 'useless human,' that's what you really think, isn't it?"

"No, it's not like that!" he grabbed my hand, and I could feel him trembling. "I love you, Tasha, I've loved you for the past five years. You've always supported me, helped me regain my confidence. I just... temporarily lost my way."

I withdrew my hand, feeling tears welling up again. "Lost your way? You betrayed me, Byron."

"I know I made a mistake," his voice choked, "But we can start over, five years of feelings can't end like this. You once said we would always be together, remember?"

His reminder of my vow pained my heart. Indeed, we had promised to spend our lives together, but that was when I thought there was true love between us.

Just as I was about to say something, I noticed the man in the VIP area—the one wearing the moonstone ring—observing us with a hint of interest in his eyes. He nodded slightly toward me, then turned to say something to the attendant beside him.

"I need some time to think, Byron," I finally said, "Tonight I just want to be alone."

Byron's expression grew anxious, "At least let me buy you a drink, okay? Consider it my apology."

Without waiting for my answer, he waved to the bartender. They exchanged a few words, too low for me to hear. The bartender nodded and began preparing a cocktail as red as blood.

"I don't want this," I said, "I already have a drink," pointing to my barely touched gin and tonic.

Byron's expression stiffened, "Please, Natasha, I ordered it especially for you, at least try a sip."

His insistence made me more suspicious. Just then, I saw the man with the moonstone ring walking toward the bar. He ordered a drink, then headed in our direction. Byron nervously glanced at him, then turned to me, his voice urgent: "Natasha, please."

"No, I don't want to drink it," I said firmly.

Byron wanted to say more, but the tall man was already standing beside us.

"Seems like you're having some unpleasantness," he said deeply, his gaze moving between Byron and me.

Byron immediately stood up, a flash of fear crossing his face. "Mr. Morgan, we were just..."

Morgan—the name made my heart race. Could he be Alexander Morgan, CEO of Infinity Corporation, the country's most powerful Alpha werewolf?

"No need to explain," Mr. Morgan interrupted him, then turned to me, "Is someone bothering you?"

"It's fine," I forced a smile, "He was just leaving."

Byron looked hesitantly at me, then at Morgan, before reluctantly nodding. "Yes, I should go."

Just then, the bartender brought over two almost identical red cocktails. One was placed in front of me, the other beside Mr. Morgan.

"Your special mix, sir." The bartender bowed slightly, then quickly left.

Mr. Morgan picked up his glass and slightly raised it to me. "Enjoy your evening."

Before I could say anything, he had already taken a sip. At first, his expression was simply one of tasting, but seconds later, his look suddenly changed. A strange orange glow emerged from deep within his pupils, hot as lava.

Byron's face instantly turned pale, panic flashing in his eyes. He stepped back, turning to flee.

"Mr. Morgan?" I asked worriedly, not understanding what was happening.

Mr. Morgan's gaze locked onto me, the orange light in his eyes growing stronger. "You..." he growled, his voice dangerously hoarse, "This was your plan?"

"What?" I asked in confusion, instinctively standing up from my barstool.

"Catch him!" he suddenly shouted to the security guards, pointing at the fleeing Byron. The guards quickly acted, pinning Byron to the ground.

Surrounding patrons began to move uneasily, some even moving toward the exits. Mr. Morgan grabbed my wrist with a grip so tight it hurt.

"A carefully planned trap," he hissed, the orange light in his eyes alarmingly hot, "First creating a chance encounter in the parking lot, then drugging me in my own bar."

"I don't know you!" I struggled to explain, "I know nothing about this!"

The werewolves in the bar looked increasingly uncomfortable, some even beginning to moan softly, as if affected by some invisible force.

Mr. Morgan's breathing became rapid, and he held me tightly, pulling me toward him. "Take him to the interrogation room," he ordered the guards regarding Byron, then looked at me, "I'll deal with this woman personally."

Before I could protest, he had already dragged me through the bar and up the stairs. The werewolf patrons around us moved away, some even clutching their heads and moaning in pain. I was pulled into a luxurious room, the door closing heavily behind us.

Mr. Morgan released my wrist and staggered toward the center of the room. His entire body was trembling, the orange light in his eyes alarmingly hot.

"You conspired with that Omega," he said through gritted teeth, his voice distorted by suppressed emotions, "To drug me in my own bar?"

"I don't know you," I argued, moving closer to the door, ready to escape at any moment, "Byron is my ex-boyfriend, but I don't know what he put in your drink!"

He sneered, moving closer until my back was against the door. "Quite a coincidence, isn't it? First in my parking lot, then in my bar. Now your ex-boyfriend gives me an aphrodisiac, and you happen to be present."

Cold sweat broke out on my back as I finally understood Byron's true intention. An aphrodisiac—to make me submit to him? And now this powerful Alpha werewolf thought I was in on it?