Elara’s POV
“You’re sure this is my room?”
I didn’t blink. I just stared the concierge down with a calm, steady gaze. He hesitated–just a flicker–but recovered with a puff of arrogance, like he’d swallowed something bitter and refused to choke.
“Yes,” he said with his chin lifted, voice dripping with disdain. “This is your room, Miss.”
He turned sharply, his smugness practically bouncing off the cement walls as he walked away.
I stepped into the so–called room.
A moldy stench hit me first. Damp walls, a single cracked lightbulb overhead, a rusted iron bed with sunken springs, and sheets stained with something! didn’t want to name. The place reeked of mildew and contempt.
I wasn’t shocked.
I’d lived like this once–before I was the Luna. Before I became Gamma. Before I survived the rogues, the rejection, the betrayal.
The basement at the Diaz estate was familiar territory. I used to sleep beside the utility closet, close enough to hear the maids gossiping as they scrubbed the marble floors above my head.
Now here I was again, full circle.
But the girl who once cried on these sheets was gone.
I tossed my bag in the corner, smoothed down my hair, and walked out without a word.
I didn’t have to ask who was behind this. It had “Corla” stamped all over it. She wanted me broken, crawling, forgotten.
But I didn’t crawl anymore.
I climbed the stairs to the top floor–straight to Cael’s suite. Knocked
“Hold on!” His voice was muffled, slightly breathless.
once. Twice.
The door swung open and there he stood, shirt unbuttoned halfway, a lazy grin tugging at his lips.
“Oh. It’s you.”
My brows lifted. “Who’s in there?”
Cael blinked like a deer caught in headlights. “No one.”
Right.
Just then, Vessa popped up behind him, cheeks flushed and top askew. “Hey, Elara! What’s up?”
I folded my arms. “Bad timing?”
“No! No, not at all!” she rushed. “What do you need?”
“I just came to borrow a bathroom,” I said, eyeing them both. “Mine’s out of service.”
Cael frowned. “Your bathroom? What happened?”
1/3
Chapter 20
“I don’t have one.”
Vessa blinked, jaw slack. “What?”
I pulled out my phone and showed them the pictures I’d snapped of the dungeon they’d shoved me into.
Vessa’s lips curled in disgust. “Is that where they put you?!”
“Ground floor. Back hallway. Smelled like rotting wood and rat piss.”
Cael’s expression hardened. “That’s unacceptable. You’re the Gamma of Blood Moon. You deserve a suite, not a sewer.”
Vessa was already dialing the front desk, fingers trembling with fury.
Within minutes, a team of hotel staff arrived–including the same smug concierge who had sent me to the underworld.
“1…I apologize for the confusion,” the manager stammered, clearly panicked. “We’re overbooked right now, and-”
“You’re full?” Vessa snapped. “Then what are all those empty rooms doing on this floor? Are they reserved for ghosts?”
“They’re for visiting Alphas,” the man lied badly.
“And Elara’s not official?” she barked.
Other Blood Moon members began spilling out into the hallway. The minute they saw my face, the story unfolded like wildfire. Rage rippled through
them like thunder.
The manager looked ready to faint.
Cael didn’t even raise his voice. “She’s not sleeping in the basement. Move someone out. Now.”
The manager paled further, eyes darting. “Uh… well, Miss Miela is next door but-”
“Perfect,” Cael cut in coldly. “She’s not an officer. Elara takes her room.”
“No, no, that room was specifically-”
BANG.
The door flew open with one sharp kick.
Miela screamed. She stumbled out, hair tousled, silk robe hanging off one shoulder.
“What the hell is wrong with you people?!”
Vessa shoved her aside. “You’re breathing our air. That’s what’s wrong.”
Miela’s eyes found mine. “Elara-”
I didn’t speak. Just smiled. Cold and quiet.
Because finally–finally–she was getting
a taste of what she used to dish
out.
Miela had stripped me of dignity once. Humiliated me every chance she got.
And now, she was the one barefoot in the hallway, clutching her robe, too shocked to scream properly.
The same soldiers who once bowed to her now barely gave her a glance.
2/3
TOTU
Chapter 20
“I hope the new sheets smell better,” Vessa said, tossing me the keycard.
I caught it midair. “Thanks. I’m sure the view’s better up here.”
As I stepped into the suite, Miela’s glare burned holes in my back. But I didn’t turn around.
Because revenge didn’t need a mic drop.
Sometimes, all it took was a door closing behind you–and staying shut.
