Chapter 31
Elara's POV
I stepped out of the private dining room and let the door click shut behind me. The fluorescent lights in the hallway buzzed overhead, too bright after the dim chaos I'd just left. My hands were still shaking—not from fear, but from the adrenaline crash hitting my system like a freight train.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
The number kept repeating in my head as I walked down the corridor. That was more money than my family would see in five years. Maybe ten.
I pushed through the back exit into the cool night air and leaned against the brick wall. My lungs were burning... I cursed inwardly, struggling for breath. Forcing myself against the wall, I focused on the breathing exercises from my past life, the slow, controlled rhythm a desperate anchor against the tightening in my chest.
Think, Lynette. Don't let emotions cloud your judgment.
I closed my eyes and let my mind work through the tactical problem. Derrick had offered me money to protect his family from the rogue wolves he'd displaced. Standard bodyguard work on the surface. But the reality was messier.
Bodyguard work meant staying close to the Goldman family 24/7. Following them to work, to social events, to their homes. I'd need at least three people to maintain that kind of coverage, and I was working alone. Plus, this body couldn't handle prolonged physical strain without collapsing.
More importantly, defensive tactics put me at a disadvantage. The rogues could choose when and where to strike. I'd always be reacting, always one step behind.
No. If I was going to do this, I needed to flip the script.
I opened my eyes and stared across the parking lot toward the dark tree line in the distance. Black Ridge Forest. That's where the rogues were hiding. Derrick had said they had a leader—someone organized enough to swear a blood oath and coordinate attacks.
That meant they had a base. A structure. Predictable patterns.
In my past life, I'd dismantled dozens of mercenary camps. I knew how to find them, how to infiltrate them, and how to take out the leadership before the rank and file even knew what was happening. These rogues were dangerous, sure, but they weren't the Wild Hunt. They weren't trained killers with silver bullets and wolfsbane grenades.
They were desperate wolves defending what little territory they had left.
I could work with that.
The plan started forming in my mind, cold and clinical. What I was really buying was time—time to scout Black Ridge Forest, locate the rogue pack's den, and assess their strength.
If I could take out their leader, the pack would scatter. No more revenge attacks. No more blood oaths. And I'd walk away with two hundred grand and enough weapons from Derrick's "resources" to arm myself for when the Wild Hunt inevitably showed up.
It was risky. This body was weak, untrained, prone to asthma attacks at the worst possible moments. But I'd worked with worse odds before.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from Ethan.
Ethan: Where are you? We're waiting in the car.
Shit. My family. In the chaos, I'd almost forgotten they were still here.
I typed back quickly: Coming. Sorry. Bathroom.
I pushed off the wall and started walking toward the front parking lot, forcing my legs to move steadily despite how badly they wanted to give out. The adrenaline was fully gone now, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion and the dull ache of overused muscles.
When I rounded the corner of the building, I spotted our family's beat-up sedan parked under a streetlight. Ethan was leaning against the driver's side door, arms crossed, scanning the parking lot with obvious tension in his shoulders.
The moment he saw me, his whole posture changed. He pushed off the car and strode toward me, closing the distance in seconds.
"Where the hell were you?" His voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the barely suppressed worry underneath. "You said you'd be right back."
"I told you. Bathroom." I kept my tone light, casual. "Derrick wanted to apologize for lunch. Took longer than I expected."
Ethan stopped in front of me, and I watched his eyes scan my face, then travel down to my clothes. Looking for injuries. For signs of distress. For anything that would confirm whatever worst-case scenario had been playing in his head.
"Derrick Goldman apologized to you." He said it slowly, like he was testing the words to see if they made sense. "Derrick Goldman. The same guy who called you a waste of space at lunch."
"People can surprise you." I shrugged and moved past him toward the car.
His hand shot out and caught my elbow—not hard, just enough to stop me. "Elara."
I turned back. His face was all sharp angles in the streetlight, jaw tight, eyes searching mine.
"What did he really want?"
For a moment, I considered telling him the truth. About the attack. About the offer. About the choice I was facing. Ethan was smart. He'd understand the tactical advantages. He might even support it if it meant securing our family's future.
But then I remembered the way he'd stood up to Derrick at lunch. The way he'd defended Dad without hesitation. Ethan had principles. Lines he wouldn't cross.
And I was about to cross so many lines I'd lose count.
"He apologized for being an ass," I said, meeting his gaze steadily. "Said he was stressed about work and took it out on me. That's it."
Ethan stared at me for another long moment.
I could see him weighing my words, looking for cracks in the story.