Caught Clubbing

The text message on Ava's phone read:

"The plan worked, Ava… that bitch of a sister is getting punished by being locked up in her room, guarded by my father's men."

Ava's eyes narrowed as she reread the message from Sophia. Her heart pounded, and confusion flickered across her face. The words on the screen were clear—Elara was supposed to be locked away, guarded under strict orders. But what she was seeing right in front of her was an entirely different reality.

Sitting just a few feet away, at the far end of the dimly lit club, was none other than Elara herself.

The very girl who, according to Sophia's message, should have been under house arrest.

Ava's mind raced. Sophia would never lie to her—at least, not about something this serious. The message hadn't been forged or manipulated; she had received it barely an hour ago. So, how the hell was Elara sitting here, calmly drinking as if she had no care in the world?

Her sharp eyes followed Elara's movements, watching as she lifted her glass to her lips, the neon lights casting eerie colors over her face. Ava needed to make sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. Was it really Elara? Was this some kind of illusion?

Without hesitation, she pulled out her phone and, with a quiet snap, took a picture. Then another. And another.

She needed evidence. If this truly was Elara, she needed proof—just in case Sophia or anyone else dared to question her later.

Ava clenched her jaw, her grip tightening around her phone as she confirmed what her eyes already knew. It was Elara.

And she was seething.

Just moments ago, Sophia had assured her that Elara was locked away, supposedly facing the punishment she deserved. But here she was, free as a bird, completely defying whatever plans had been set against her.

Did this mean Elara had outsmarted Sophia and her family? Had she somehow managed to escape the guards and sneak her way into the club?

Ava didn't even bother to waste another second overthinking it. Fury boiling inside her, she strode across the room, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor as she closed the distance between them.

"Elara, you bitch! What the hell are you doing here?"

Her voice cut through the pounding music like a blade.

Elara's body stiffened at the familiar voice, a slow, almost lazy shiver running down her spine. She hadn't been expecting her of all people to be here.

Ava.

Of course, it had to be Ava.

Her sister's ever-loyal, equally manipulative best friend. The one who never missed a chance to dig her claws into her whenever the opportunity arose.

Elara blinked heavily, the alcohol in her system making the room sway slightly around her. She had been drinking for a while now, and though she wasn't completely drunk, the effects were settling in.

She exhaled slowly, turning her head to face Ava. Her expression was unreadable—half-lidded eyes, lips slightly parted, an almost bored look on her face.

"Why can't I be here?" she asked, her voice slurred yet still carrying its usual arrogance. "You're here, aren't you?"

Her words were sharp, laced with a quiet defiance.

Because fuck if she was going to let Ava—of all people—talk down to her like this.

Yes, she let her family push her around. Yes, she obeyed their cruel rules, submitting like an obedient dog behind closed doors. But outside of that house? In the real world?

She refused to let anyone—anyone—control her.

And that was what made them hate her even more.

Not that she cared.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

But deep down, she knew it wasn't true.

Because every single time she saw Sophia basking in the admiration of the elite, standing high among the pack's social ladder, laughing and thriving in the kind of praise Elara had never received—something inside her burned.

Something ugly.

Something dangerous.

An urge.

She always forced herself to suppress it. But if she was being honest with herself…

She wanted to kill Sophia.

Well, maybe kill was a strong word. But still…

Ava scoffed, her eyes flashing with irritation.

"Huh. So now you're comparing yourself to me?" she sneered, stepping closer. "Don't you know your place anymore?"

Her tone dripped with condescension, but there was something more beneath it—something darker.

A low growl rumbled from Ava's throat, an attempt to assert dominance over Elara, to remind her who was superior. It wasn't just an ordinary growl. It was the unmistakable sound of her beast creeping to the surface.

Her werewolf side.

A force far stronger and more intimidating than Elara's own.

But if Ava had been expecting fear to instantly flicker across Elara's face, she was sorely mistaken.

On the surface, Elara remained eerily calm, her expression blank. But deep inside, a storm had begun to brew.

She was afraid.

She knew when to back down. She always did.

And Ava?

Ava was stronger than her.

Her werewolf form was far more advanced, far more deadly.

Most importantly, her wolf, Mia, was disturbingly still silent up until now inside her.

And that wasn't good.

Her wolf should have been reacting, growling back, challenging Ava's aggression. But she wasn't. She was completely still.

That only meant one thing—her wolf knew she was outmatched. Or maybe was still too exhausted to talk?

Elara forced a dry chuckle, masking the anxiety curling in her gut.

"Yeah, I know my status," she muttered, tilting her head with an exaggerated smirk. "I'm way below your league. So why waste your precious time on me?"

She just wanted this confrontation to be over.

But Ava wasn't going to let her off so easily.

"Oh no," Ava said, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "I can't leave you now. Not until you tell me what in God's name you're doing here when, according to Sophia, you're supposed to be locked up in your room."

Her voice rose sharply, nearly hysterical.

Elara's body tensed, fear prickling at her skin.

Oh no.

Ava knew.

If Ava knew, that meant she could report her.

If Ava reported her…

Her heart pounded violently in her chest. Panic clawed at her insides, but she swallowed it down, forcing her face into a mask of indifference.

She couldn't let Ava see her fear.

If she did, she was doomed.

"And how exactly is that your business?" she snapped, her tone sharp, laced with forced confidence.

Ava's face darkened, her jaw tightening.

"Oh, you're quite bold, considering I have proof," she said, lifting her phone and waving it mockingly.

The screen was still open to the pictures she had taken earlier.

Clear, undeniable evidence.

Elara's stomach dropped.

Oh, hell fuck.

This bitch had taken pictures.

There was no way she could lie her way out of this.

No excuse. No defense.

And then, Ava delivered the final blow.

"And believe me when I say—I'm sending them to your family right now."