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Meeting Talon

Sixteen years later

Anthena.

"Mandy, how many times have I told you how much I hate werewolves?" I shot her a look, my brows knitting into a frown as she smiled back, sheepish and unbothered. She knew all too well.

"Oh, sorry, Anthena," she said, dragging me into one of her trademark hugs, patting my back like it would magically erase the irritation brewing inside me. She finally clicked off the television.

Mandy understood—she had to, after all these years. She knew my disdain for werewolves ran deep—something not even her unrelenting love for those beasts could change. She defended them at every point, as if they needed protection. I shuddered at the memory. The image of my parents, torn apart by something... impossible. A werewolf. The world might think I was crazy—hell, my aunt certainly did—but I saw it with my own eyes. No one believed me. That night, that monster was real. And from that day on, I vowed to show the world their existence.

For six years, I'd dedicated every waking moment to my mission. No luxuries. No distractions. Just research, training, and investigation. I'd learnt martial arts and pushed myself to the edge—sometimes beyond—but no matter how hard I tried, no matter how deep I dug, there was nothing. No sign of them. It was like they had vanished. But I knew better. I wasn’t going to stop.

They were out there hiding, waiting. And I was going to find them.

"Morning," I greeted, walking into the kitchen where Mandy was preparing breakfast.

"Morning," she gave me a once-over, eyes narrowing. "You didn't sleep, did you?" Her voice was laced with concern.

I shrugged, dumping a packet of coffee into a mug. "Nightmares again. Your darling werewolves." My voice filled with disgust, and as expected, she frowned.

"Anthena. It's been sixteen years. Don't you think it's time to stop blaming yourself? I'm sure your parents wouldn't want you to do that." Her voice softened, pleading, but I wouldn’t let her get through.

I tightened my grip on the cup. "I caused their death. If I hadn't insisted on going on that trip, they'd still be alive. Werewolves wouldn't have killed them." My chest tightened as the old wound reopened.

"But not all were-"

"I’ve got an audition to get ready for." I cut her off, not wanting to hear it. I knew exactly where she was going with this, and I wasn’t about to let her defend them again.

I showered quickly, the cool water calming the storm inside me. Dressed in a sleek blue dress and heels, I surveyed my reflection. I didn't look like someone carrying years of trauma. No, today I looked like someone ready to conquer the world.

As I drove towards the Stars Entertainment building, the familiar flutter of nerves settled in my stomach. This was it. My chance. The biggest media company in London—if I could land a role here, I could finally prove myself. For my mother, the actress I was determined to become.

I'd been rejected time and time again. But isn't rejection and the ability to never give up is what qualified us as winners after all? The last audition was the worst. The panel's words are still echoing in my mind.

"So sorry, Miss Wellington. You don't possess the talent we are looking for. You have the passion but simply not the talent. I suggest you stick to modelling." It had been that brutal. Their disappointment had hung thick in the air, but it was their loss, not mine. They had no idea the raw talent they were passing up. If anything, I was too good for them.

The receptionist flashed me a polite smile, confirming my audition time, before directing me to the waiting area. I sat there, trying to calm my racing heart, repeating silent prayers.

After a while, it was my turn. I took a deep breath and walked into the room with as much confidence as I could muster and stood before the panel.

"Can you tell us about yourself?" one of the interviewers asked, his eyes lingering lustfully on me far too long. I could feel his gaze trailing over my body, and anger surged inside me. What an asshole, I thought, biting the inside of my cheek to keep me from snapping at him. If I wasn't here for the audition, I would have kicked his balls.

"I'm Anthena Wellington. I'm twenty-one years old and an aspiring model and actress." I replied coldly, making sure my tone let him know I wasn't here to entertain his wandering eyes. His expression shifted, realising he was no longer going to get away with flirting at me.

"Can you act out a short scene for us?" Another man asked in a friendly tone. His look was appealing and professionally different from the former. I smiled at him gratefully and nodded.

I cleared my throat and launched into the scene, giving them my best performance.

"Charles, please don’t go," I whispered, gripping the sides of my shirt like it was the only thing keeping me together. "I need you. More than you’ll ever know." My voice cracked, the words catching in my throat as if they were too painful to speak aloud. The room was dead silent. I could feel the eyes of the panel burning into me, but I forced myself to stay in character, to push through.

I couldn’t afford to lose this audition, not again. Not after the last five rejections. My aunt's disappointed face flashed in my mind—her voice telling me I’d never make it and that I should’ve stuck to modelling. A familiar tightness clenched in my chest, but I pushed harder, ignoring the fear gnawing at the back of my mind.

This is not going well. The disappointment was evident; their gaze fixed on me like I was a failed comedian.

Before I could offer to try again, the first man cut me off. "We don't have all day," he said, his tone flat and dismissive. "You can go. We'll get back to you." But I knew that look—another rejection. They weren't getting back to me. I was just another pretty face to them.

My mouth went dry as the silence hung heavy in the room. The rejection was clear, but my mind refused to accept it. I couldn’t leave without trying one last time.

“I can actually act as a nanny!” I blurted out, my voice high-pitched and desperate. “I’m really good with kids. Or—" I paused, grasping at straws, "I can be a maid! I can scrub floors really well, I swear!” I forced a smile, my eyes darting between the panel, pleading for some sign of mercy.

But their faces remained still, caught off guard by my sudden outburst.

I left the room as their laughter erupted behind me. It stung—more than I expected. Tears welled in my eyes, and I rushed to the bathroom to cry in peace.

In the bathroom, I let the tears fall. "This one hurts," I whispered, staring at my reflection, dabbing my eyes dry. "But you’ll try again. They don’t know your worth."

Just as I turned to leave, the door opened, and I stepped aside. In walked a man, tall and commanding. His sharp jawline, dark stubble, and piercing blue eyes caught my attention immediately. He moved with a quiet intensity, his tousled hair falling effortlessly over his forehead, his chiselled features framed by sun-kissed skin that made him look like he’d stepped off the cover of a magazine.

My breath caught in my throat. Is he even human? Or some kind of demi-god? How can God be so generous to him?

I stood frozen, mouth slightly open, unable to tear my eyes away.

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