Chapter 33 Rage Beneath Control
Selene’s POV
The moment his hand moved to shield me, I knew something had shifted.
Kale Wellington did not step in out of kindness. He stepped in because he understood the weight behind the situation. In Epicmon, power decided everything, and right now, he had already chosen which side to stand on.
I placed my hand lightly on his shoulder, a quiet signal.
I didn’t need protection.
Not from her.
Winnie’s raised hand froze midair, her expression twisting with frustration and disbelief. The anger in her eyes burned brighter, but she didn’t dare push forward again.
Not when two werewolf warriors had already stepped in.
They stood like walls between us, tall and unmoving, their presence heavy enough to press down on the entire boutique. Their eyes remained fixed, their stance unwavering. It was not just a warning. It was a line drawn.
Winnie saw it.
And for all her arrogance, she knew better than to cross it.
She lowered her hand slowly, her jaw tightening as she swallowed her rage. Being from another pack, she understood the difference between pride and stupidity. Challenging trained warriors here would not end in her favor.
Not today.
“Ms. Nightshade, my sincerest apologies for the earlier misunderstanding. Please forgive us.”
Kale’s voice carried a deep respect now, his earlier tension replaced with careful composure. He had read the situation correctly. That alone made him useful.
I let out a soft, amused breath.
He was quick to adapt.
I gave a small nod, accepting his apology without making a scene out of it. There was no need to drag this further. The outcome had already been decided the moment he walked past Winnie and came straight to me.
I turned toward the exit.
Behind me, I could still feel it. Winnie’s gaze. Sharp. Burning. Filled with resentment that had nowhere to go.
It followed me all the way out.
And for once, I didn’t mind it.
The look on her face, the way her pride had been crushed piece by piece, was more satisfying than anything she could have said.
I stepped out into the evening air.
Cool.
Quiet.
Free from the suffocating tension of the boutique.
The city of Epicmon was already shifting into its night rhythm. Lights flickered on across the streets, casting a warm glow over polished roads and tall buildings. Cars passed by in steady lines, their headlights cutting through the dark.
I glanced at the time.
Seven.
Right on time.
I had no intention of letting something as trivial as Winnie ruin the rest of my night.
The car arrived quickly, and within minutes, I was on my way.
\---
Corral Lounge
The moment I stepped inside, the atmosphere changed.
The music was low but steady, blending into the soft murmur of voices. The lighting was dim, just enough to highlight faces without revealing too much. It was a place designed for people who valued privacy as much as luxury.
Only the wealthy came here.
Only the powerful stayed.
“Selene! Over here!”
Aryan’s voice cut through the crowd, warm and familiar.
I turned toward the sound and spotted him immediately. He sat in a private booth, surrounded by a few friends, all dressed sharply, drinks already in hand. The table was filled with laughter, easy conversation, and the kind of energy that came from people who had nothing to worry about.
I walked over, a faint smile forming on my lips.
“Aryan, your movie wrapped up already? That was fast. Congratulations.”
He stood immediately, pulling out a chair for me with exaggerated care.
“Selene, sit. What do you want to drink? Red wine? I’ll pour it for you.”
I shook my head gently.
“I’ll have something light. Maybe soda.”
He gave me a look, half pleading, half playful.
“Just a little,” he said. “It’s my birthday today.”
I paused for a second, then gave in.
“Fine.”
He poured half a glass for me and filled his own completely.
“Selene, let’s toast.”
I lifted the glass slightly.
“Happy birthday, Aryan.”
The wine burned slightly as it went down, but I didn’t show it. Years of control made it easy to hide small discomforts.
“Impressive,” Aryan laughed, clapping lightly. “You’ve improved.”
I smiled faintly.
We talked for a while after that, the conversation flowing easily. His friends joined in, sharing stories, laughing over small things. For a moment, everything felt simple.
Then the music changed.
A soft voice rose from the stage, pulling attention toward the center of the lounge.
I turned instinctively.
A young woman stood under the spotlight, dressed in a deep red gown that hugged her figure perfectly. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her expression was calm, confident.
Her voice filled the room.
Gentle.
Smooth.
It carried a quiet charm that made people listen.
“She’s the resident singer,” Aryan said beside me. “Angel, I think.”
I nodded.
“She’s good.”
He leaned closer, his grin widening.
“Not as good as you.”
I gave him a look.
“Aryan…”
“It’s been years,” he continued, ignoring my protest. “Sing something for me. Birthday gift.”
His friends immediately joined in, their voices overlapping.
“Selene, sing!”
“Come on, just one song!”
I hesitated for a moment, then glanced at the stage again.
The music.
The crowd.
The expectation.
Then I nodded.
“Alright.”
The reaction was instant.
Cheers.
Applause.
I stood and walked toward the stage, the white gown I wore catching the soft light with every step. The same dress that had caused chaos earlier now moved effortlessly with me, as if it had always belonged here.
I took the microphone.
“This song is for my friend Aryan,” I said softly. “Happy birthday.”
The music began.
And I sang.
The moment the first note left my lips, the entire lounge seemed to quiet.
The melody flowed naturally, rising and falling with ease. It carried emotion without force, drawing people in without demanding their attention.
Every note felt right.
Every word clear.
And for those few minutes, nothing else existed.
\---
Lucian’s POV
From the second floor, I could see everything.
The private suite was dim, the glass separating us from the lounge below reflecting just enough light to keep us hidden.
I hadn’t planned to come here tonight.
Business had brought me here.
Nothing more.
Yet there she was.
Selene.
Standing on that stage like she belonged there.
Like the entire room was hers.
I remembered her words earlier. She said she was meeting someone at a bar. I hadn’t thought much of it then.
But now—
I knew who.
Aryan.
I watched as she sang, her voice carrying through the room, pulling attention effortlessly. The way people looked at her, the way they listened, the way they reacted—it was all too obvious.
She wasn’t just standing there.
She was shining.
One of the men beside me tried to speak.
“Mr. Frostbane, this drink—”
I didn’t hear the rest.
My focus stayed on her.
On the way she moved.
On the way she smiled.
On the way she looked at another man.
Something in my chest tightened.
Without realizing it, my grip on the glass in my hand tightened too.
The pressure built.
Then—
it shattered.
The sound was sharp, breaking through the quiet of the room.
Everyone froze.
My associates immediately rushed forward, panic clear in their expressions as they handed me a towel, trying to replace the broken glass.
They thought they had done something wrong.
They didn’t know.
The one who had caused this—
was her.
\---
Selene’s POV
The applause was loud when I finished.
Too loud.
People called out, asking for another song, but I only smiled politely and stepped down from the stage.
I returned to the booth, the noise fading behind me.
“Selene, that was incredible,” Aryan said immediately. “Even better than before.”
I gave a small smile.
“I’m going to the restroom.”
The wine I had earlier was starting to settle in my system, leaving a slight discomfort behind.
I walked toward the hallway, the noise of the lounge growing distant.
Just as I reached the door, someone stepped into my path.
A middle-aged man.
Well-dressed, but not well-carried.
His suit was expensive, but it didn’t fit him properly. His stomach pushed against the fabric, his posture loose, his gaze unpleasant.
“Are you the new singer?” he asked.
I looked at him briefly.
“No.”
I stepped to the side, intending to leave.
But he moved faster.
His hand grabbed mine.
Cold.
Unwanted.
Before I could react, he shoved a thick stack of cash into my palm.
His eyes moved over me slowly, without restraint.
“Spend the night with me,” he said, his voice low and greedy. “And this is yours.”