Elera's POV
The event ended sooner than I expected.
One moment, the hall was filled with applause and polite laughter, and the next, people were already gathering their things, exchanging final smiles and promises to "catch up soon." Just like that, the night began to loosen its grip.
Orion kept his word.
He said his goodbyes, gave me a brief nod, and left shortly after, disappearing into the crowd like the evening had been nothing more than another task checked off his list.
I exhaled once he was gone.
Belle found me almost immediately, keys in hand and excitement written all over her face.
"Ready?" she asked.
I nodded, slipping into the passenger seat of her car moments later. The city lights blurred past as she drove, music playing softly in the background.
"Where exactly are we going?" I asked after a few minutes.
She smirked, eyes still on the road. "Zane's penthouse."
I blinked. "Penthouse?"
"That's where the after-party is," she said casually, as if that was completely normal.
My stomach fluttered.
When we arrived, the building alone was intimidating—tall, sleek, glowing against the night sky. We fixed our makeup in the car, adjusting hair, reapplying gloss, silently preparing ourselves for whatever waited upstairs.
The doors opened, and music spilled out instantly.
Inside, Zane spotted me almost immediately.
"Elera! You're finally here—I missed you," he said dramatically, pulling me into a quick hug.
I laughed softly. "Nice penthouse."
He waved it off. "It's nothing. Come on, let me introduce you to everyone."
Before I could respond, he took my hand and pulled me along like we'd known each other for years. That was Zane—confident, warm, effortlessly familiar.
We stepped into the main guest area, and my eyes immediately began to wander.
People everywhere.
Some dressed sharply in tailored suits. Others in expensive dresses that clung perfectly, confidence radiating from the way they moved. Laughter filled the room, mixed with music and conversation.
Then my gaze landed on him.
A man in a white tuxedo sat on a single couch, relaxed, composed—like he owned the space without needing to prove it.
Axel.
Our eyes met.
Shock flickered across his face.
I felt it too.
He looked even more striking outside the grand hall—sharper, calmer, impossibly composed. The kind of presence that didn't need noise to command attention.
He didn't smile.
Neither did I.
But something unspoken passed between us in that moment.
Axel Lancaster was here.
And suddenly, the night felt far from over.
Axel's POV
These people never failed to surprise me.
I sat back on the couch, legs spread comfortably, glass in hand, doing what I always did—observing. Letting my presence speak before my words ever could. I didn't need to move much; my aura usually did the work for me.
Then she walked in.
At first, she was distracted, her eyes roaming the room, taking in the faces, the noise, the excess. But the moment her gaze landed on me, I saw it—surprise. Real, unfiltered.
Mine mirrored hers.
My eyes dropped instantly to her hand.
Locked with Zane's.
My jaw tightened.
I knew she wasn't his girlfriend—Zane was with Rosie, always had been—but that didn't make the sight any easier to stomach. Funny how everyone else seemed so free to touch her, to pull her close, to claim space around her… while I stood back, doing nothing.
"Elera, come on, have a seat," Belle nudged her, pulling her toward the group.
I leaned back further, watching.
Zane, Orion, Roman—they were my childhood friends. We'd grown up together, shared too much history to count. Belle came into the picture later, always hovering around her cousin, clinging to him like a shadow. Over time, she became family too.
But Elera?
She was new.
And somehow, she already felt too familiar.
"So hey, guys—let's get wasted!" Zane shouted.
I scoffed internally.
Like brother, like sister. Loud, careless, allergic to responsibility.
The music grew louder. Glasses clinked. I drank slowly, deliberately. Enough to blend in, not enough to lose control. I watched the others unravel one by one—Roman disappearing with a group of girls, Zane tangled up with a very drunk Rosie.
Belle was already far gone.
And Elera… she tried to resist.
I saw Belle pushing another glass into her hand, laughing, insisting. Elera shook her head at first, lips pressed together in protest—but eventually, she gave in.
Bad idea.
"She's going to regret that," I muttered under my breath.
Minutes later, my suspicion was confirmed.
"Be…l… where is the… r-res… restroom?" Elera slurred, swaying slightly as she leaned toward Belle.
Belle laughed, just as unsteady. "Brookieeeeeeee… it's somewhere. Find it. You always sooo—" she waved her hand dramatically, then cupped Elera's face. "—manage."
Elera giggled, eyes half-lidded. "I'll… find… it. I always do…"
She stood up.
And immediately stumbled.
Something in my chest tightened.
I watched her begin to walk—no direction, no balance, no awareness of her surroundings. Just blind confidence and alcohol.
I sighed, rubbing my jaw.
I couldn't leave her like that.
She'd hurt herself. I knew it. The way she moved, the way her heels betrayed her steps—it was inevitable.
Rolling my eyes, I stood and followed behind her, keeping my distance but close enough to intervene if needed.
I didn't know why I cared.
But I did.
And for the first time that night, I realized something unsettling—
Elera Brooke was already a problem.
And she didn't even know it yet.