Chapter 249 Royal Road Casino

Chapter 249 Royal Road Casino
>>Riona
The car came to a slow stop outside the casino. The massive black building loomed over us, sleek and elegant with reflective windows that mirrored the morning sky. It was strange seeing it like this—silent, empty. No blaring music, no flashing lights, no scent of perfume or alcohol in the air. Just quiet.
Since it was still morning, the place hadn’t opened yet. It didn’t open until after 5 p.m., when the sun dipped and the real chaos began.
Demos got out first and held the door open for me. I stepped out slowly, my boots echoing on the pavement.
Inside, the casino was dimly lit, the slot machines turned off, tables cleaned and covered. A strange chill clung to the air without the warmth of a crowd. It looked almost… peaceful like this. Peaceful and haunting.
“Well?” Demos asked, his voice low as he looked around. “Does anything feel familiar?”
I hesitated, standing near the center of the gaming floor. “Yes… and no.”
He tilted his head toward me. “Do you know your way around?”
I shook my head. “Not exactly. It’s more like… fragments. Like I’ve walked these halls before, but everything’s foggy.”
“Then trust your instincts,” he said softly. “Just go with it.”
“Go with it?” I echoed, staring at him. “You say that like it’s simple.”
He gave a small smile. “It is. You’re not just human anymore, Riona. Your wolf remembers things too. Let her lead.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, unsure what to make of that.
“You seem pretty sure about this,” I looked at him, “Why?”
“I’m not sure, I’m making sure.” He passed me a smile, “No harm in that.”
He wasn’t wrong. And ever since I’d shifted, my mind had started to feel clearer. Like something inside me had unlocked. A door creaked open, and even though the full picture wasn’t there yet, more and more pieces were beginning to fall into place.
I exhaled slowly and let my feet move.
I didn’t think. I didn’t question it. I let my body guide me.
I walked past the poker tables, down one of the narrower corridors meant only for staff. I passed an “Employees Only” sign and pushed the door open without hesitation. Demos didn’t say anything—he just followed silently behind me.
We moved through a corridor lined with storage rooms, and then through another metal door that required a code. I paused, unsure. Then, as if by muscle memory, I reached out and typed in the numbers: 84216. The lock clicked open.
Demos raised an eyebrow. “That was impressive.”
I shrugged, not answering. I didn’t know how I knew it either.
The hallway beyond was darker, quieter. I continued walking until we came to a narrow stairwell, almost hidden behind a supply shelf. I stared at it for a second, heart pounding.
“Here,” I murmured.
“Go,” Demos said behind me.
I descended the stairs carefully, the concrete steps echoing with each footfall. It was colder down here, like the air hadn’t moved in years. At the bottom, I pushed open a heavy metal door.
What met me was a large, dimly lit underground room. The walls were reinforced with steel, and rows of locked cabinets lined the sides. But my attention was pulled straight ahead.
There it was.
A massive steel safe embedded into the wall, glowing slightly from the emergency light above it. It had no labels, no signs. Nothing to mark what it was or who it belonged to.
I stopped in front of it, breath catching in my throat.
Demos came to stand beside me, silent and watchful.
“You’ve been here before,” he said quietly.
I nodded slowly. My hand reached out, fingertips grazing the cold surface of the safe.
“I don’t know if I’ve been here before,” I said, my voice soft as I stared at the safe. “But… I have this feeling. Like something is calling me. Like I should know it.”
Demos stood beside me, silent for a moment. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something out. A small key—metallic red and shaped like a rose, the petals intricately carved, almost glowing in the low light.
My breath caught the second I saw it. I almost recognized it.
“Where did you get that?”
“From the previous owners. I tried it here a dozen times. So did the others. The damn thing won’t turn.”
He handed it to me without hesitation.
The moment it touched my palm, a shiver ran up my spine. It felt… warm. Like it recognized me.
I turned toward the safe and slid the rose key into the keyhole. It fit perfectly, but it didn’t turn.
Demos sighed softly behind me. “Like I said. It won’t—”
I cut him off by raising my hand. I couldn’t explain it, but something inside me knew. This wasn’t about just fitting a key.
I stared at the safe for a long moment, my heart pounding harder with every breath.
Then I withdrew my hand, brought it up to my mouth, and bit down on the tip of my thumb.
The sharp sting bloomed through my nerves, followed by warmth as blood pooled from the bite. I didn’t hesitate—I pressed my bleeding thumb to the rose-shaped key.
“Riona—” Demos started, surprised, but didn’t stop me.
The second my blood touched the key, something happened.
A dull hum echoed from the metal, like the safe itself had awakened.
Then—light.
Delicate glowing lines spread out from the keyhole, spiderwebbing across the surface of the safe like veins of fire. Intricate runes and patterns bloomed to life, forming a circular crest that pulsed with a golden-red light. The metal groaned—deep, ancient—like some forgotten beast exhaling after a long sleep.
Inside the safe door, something shifted.
I could hear the click-clack-click of gears—heavy and mechanical, one locking mechanism after another releasing. The ground vibrated slightly beneath our feet, as if we were standing on something far bigger than we knew.
The outer edge of the safe spiraled once to the left, then twice to the right, spinning in layers like a puzzle unlocking itself.
Then, with a final deep thunk, the door loosened.
It opened inward with a slow, ominous hiss, cool air pouring out from within. The smell was clean, preserved. Not dust or decay, but something sterile—like it had been waiting for someone.
I stared at the contents inside, my heart racing and palms damp.
And even though I had no memory of it, one thing was clear.
This safe… was meant for me.
I turned to look back at Demos.
His expression was unreadable—but his eyes, those burning gold eyes, were locked onto mine. Silent understanding passed between us, and without saying a word, we stepped through the threshold together.
The door groaned again behind us, sealing softly with a mechanical hum as we entered the hidden room.
It was... bright. The walls were white, smooth and unmarred. Cool light glowed from invisible sources above, casting everything in a soft clarity. But it wasn’t what I expected.
No gold.
No weapons.
No stacks of cash.
Instead, my breath caught.
Toys.
Toys lined the shelves. Dolls and blocks and small stuffed animals, all neatly arranged like someone had just tidied them. A tiny rocking horse stood in one corner, faded with time but lovingly preserved. There were pictures taped to the walls—crayon drawings, childlike and clumsy, full of color. Books too, children’s books, stacked on a low shelf next to clothes that were much too small for anyone now.
A pink jacket I remembered hating.
A stuffed rabbit with a missing eye.
A drawing of a woman holding hands with a little girl, labeled in crooked letters: “Mommy and Me.”
And then the memories hit me.
All of them.
Like a wave of ice through my veins, crashing straight into my chest.
My knees gave out.
Pain bloomed inside me—raw, heavy, blinding.
I collapsed.
“Riona!” Demos’s voice was sharp, and suddenly he was beside me, catching me before I hit the ground completely. His strong arms wrapped around me, holding me close as my whole body trembled.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.
My chest ached like it was being torn open.
I saw it all. My real childhood. The faces. The laughter. The way I ran around this room, safe and loved. The way my mother’s hand fit against the back of my head. My father’s voice reading stories aloud. Their smell. Their warmth.
And the blood.
The night it all vanished.
The fire. The screaming. Being dragged out.
Then… nothing.
My vision blurred. My body shook violently in Demos’s hold.
And then everything went black.


>>Demos
I walked back into the safe, the quiet hum of the lights overhead greeting me like a low whisper. In the far corner of the room, tucked just behind the bookshelf and next to the toy chest, was a small bed—one clearly meant for a child but still intact. Clean sheets. Untouched. Preserved.
Gently, I’d laid Riona there earlier after she’d collapsed. Her breathing had steadied, soft and even, and she hadn’t stirred. Just fell into sleep like her body had shut down to process everything.
I left the room for a few minutes—just enough time to grab a bottle of water and a damp towel. I figured she’d wake up needing something.
But when I returned…
She wasn’t in bed anymore.
Instead, she was on the floor, right in front of the low shelf of books. Knees tucked under her, a picture album open on her lap, fingers curled delicately over the edge of a page.
And tears—silent, constant—were running down her cheeks.
I froze.
She didn’t notice me at first, not until she turned slightly and saw me standing there.
Her lips trembled into a soft smile. God, that smile. Wounded, overwhelmed—but full of something else too. Relief. Something I didn’t dare name.
“I remember everything,” she whispered, voice barely a breath.
My chest tightened.
I walked over slowly and sat beside her on the cold floor, not saying anything at first. Just watching her, the way her fingers hovered over a photo of a little girl mid-giggle, her hair wild and her cheeks dimpled with joy. She was maybe five.
It was her. There was no mistaking it.
“What… what do you remember?” I asked carefully, my voice low, afraid that anything too loud would shatter the moment.
She tilted the album so I could see.
“That’s me,” she said. “My mom took that picture after I put makeup on her shoes and tried to convince her it looked better that way.” She let out a small, choked laugh through her tears. “I was always getting into trouble.”
I looked down at the photo. She looked… safe. Loved.
Then she turned to me again.
“My real name is Elara,” she said, the weight of the truth pressing into the air like thunder. “Elara Royalroad.”
My breath caught.
“This whole place,” she continued, gesturing to the room, to the soft glow of memories frozen in time, “was built by my mother. She designed it as a place just for me.