Ella's POV
I had never struggled a day in my life. I had it all—name, education, class, elegance—and not to brag, I didn't lack beauty either. But unlike most, these things were given to my kind for a reason. We were given everything we wanted because we were raised to become wives, not independent werewolves who could stand on their own.
And, to be honest, I hated every bit of it.
My financial life had always been flawless. I had never worried about a single thing… except one. A truth that still haunted me, no matter how hard I tried to bury it. Even at my age, I could not shift. And though I refused to admit it out loud—sometimes even to myself—it bothered me. It bothered my parents too. Perhaps that was why they pushed the wedding forward—to tie me to someone powerful enough to mask my weakness.
I leaned closer to the mirror, dragging a red lipstick across my lips. Not something I would usually dare to wear. But tonight, I didn't care. Tonight, I was going to live my life the way I wanted, before the three days were over and I was married off to a man I barely knew.
The phone on the vanity vibrated, making me jump. Straightening my red dress, I reached for it.
"Elle, you've got two minutes before your guards realize you're gone. I distracted them, but I don't know how long I can keep it up," Vivian's urgent voice hissed through the line.
A smile curved on my lips. "I'm on my way down."
I placed the lipstick down, took one last look in the mirror, and almost smirked at the reflection staring back at me. My hair fell in soft waves, my dress clung in scandalous ways, and the red on my lips made me look like someone else entirely. Someone free. Someone alive.
Snatching my purse and phone, I hurried out.
Vivian's car waited not far from the gates, headlights glowing like a beacon. My heart hammered as I rushed across the pavement, slipping into the passenger seat with a breathless laugh of relief.
"Oh my God, Ell—marry me instead," Vivian teased, her grin wide.
I laughed at her words, tension easing from my chest. If there was one person in my life who brought color to my grayscale world, it was her. It still amazed me that my parents hadn't forbidden me from seeing her yet.
"Well," I quipped, buckling my seatbelt, "if you have enough money to buy off my parents, then yes."
She snorted, pulling the car into motion. "Please. I don't think I can compete with the man you're about to marry. What was his name again?"
"Actually, let's not talk about him." Tossing me a mischievous grin, she added, "Tonight is all about parteyyy."
She said it so casually, like it was nothing. But to me, this was everything.
I had never done this before. Never attended these sorts of things. My twenty-three years had been carefully sheltered—fundraisers, charity galas, endless dinners with polished silverware and calculated smiles. Never a party. Never a night where I could simply be Ella.
And though Vivian's confidence steadied me, I couldn't stop the twist of nerves tightening my stomach.
The drive wasn't long, but it wasn't easy either. The location was tucked away from the usual nightlife, hidden like a secret only the wealthy and reckless knew about. Vivian had booked this two weeks ago, and from the looks of it, every minute she spent planning had been worth it.
Velour—that was the name of the club. I had looked it up before, out of curiosity, and immediately realized how expensive it was. Vivian must have pulled off a miracle—or spent a small fortune—to get us through its doors.
As we stepped out of the car, Vivian hooked her arm through mine. Unlike me, with my hair left loose around my shoulders, she had tied her thick curls into a messy bun, a few strands falling over her temples with effortless charm. She buzzed with excitement, practically glowing under the streetlights. For once, I thought she was more thrilled about me being here than she was for herself.
The guards at the entrance barely glanced at us before moving aside. The doors swung open, and I stepped into a world I had only ever imagined.
The music was heavy, a pulsing bass that seemed to shake the floor itself. The air was thick with perfume, smoke, and something darker—heat, sweat, temptation. Lights flashed across the dance floor where bodies writhed together, lost in rhythm. Others crowded near velvet booths, glasses of gold and crimson liquid in hand.
And then my eyes fell on something that made my breath hitch. A couple, so wrapped up in each other they might as well have been the only people in the room. Their hands, their mouths—God, they were practically devouring each other. And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, I spotted another pair in the shadows, clearly doing more than kissing.
What the hell? My cheeks burned, and I quickly averted my gaze. How could people just… do that, so shamelessly, so publicly?
"Girl," Vivian's voice cut through my shock, casual as ever, "we need drinks. Now."
I turned to her with wide eyes. "You'd better make sure I don't drink too much. Tonight, you're in charge of me."
A wicked smirk curved her lips. "Oh, don't worry. I'll take very good care of you."
I narrowed my eyes at her tone, but a reluctant laugh escaped me. The truth was, Vivian had always been the wild one, the fearless one. I had spent most of our lives looking after her, being the voice of reason. And maybe I envied her for that—for the way her family never forced her into molds, for the way she could breathe without being measured by tradition.
Tonight, though, maybe I got to borrow a little of her freedom.
"You can count on me," she said again, tugging me deeper into the crowd.
And with that, I took a breath and stepped forward—into the party, into the unknown, into the first night I would truly call my own.