Andrea_Katie

Power is not given. It is taken. And Lilith Luna Dusk is ready to take it all.
Five years ago, she was nothing,
just a lost girl, drowning in the blood of a fallen pack, saved by a man who would one day become her greatest weakness. Now, she is a name whispered in fear, a force that built an empire from the ashes of her past. Ruthless. Untouchable. Cursed.
But power is never enough. Not when the ghosts of her past still breathe. Not when fate plays its cruelest hand.

At the Blackthorn Pack’s Moon Banquet, two men lay claim to her.

Kade Draven—Alpha of Blackthorn, a calculating predator who calls her his mate. A man whose intentions are shrouded in secrets, whose ambition mirrors her own.

Damon Volkova—the one who saved her, the one who still lingers in the shadows of her memories. The one whose very name sets her wolf on edge. The one she swore to never need again.

One holds the key to her vengeance. The other, to a fate she refuses to accept.

As enemies close in, alliances shift, and prophecies whisper of doom, Lilith must decide: Will she break the curse before it consumes her? Will she bow to fate—or defy it? And when the game of power turns deadly, who will be left standing?

One thing is certain—the world will either kneel before her, or burn at her feet.

Black Veil Luna Rise of The Lilith Alpha

Sure, Hazel. Here's the entire scene rewritten in present tense, with vivid descriptions and pacing preserved:

The private lounge of the strip club is a sanctuary of shadows and seduction. Red neon lights bathe the room in a lurid glow, casting long, sinuous shadows that dance across the velvet-lined walls. The air is thick with the mingling scents of expensive perfume, sweat, and the faint trace of cigar smoke. A low hum of bass-heavy music pulses through the floor, vibrating up through the soles of my boots and into my bones.

A dancer straddles my lap, her body swaying to the rhythm of the music. Her touch is practiced, her movements calculated to entice. But her perfume is cloying, a cheap imitation of allure, and her hands feel mechanical—devoid of anything real.

I close my eyes, seeking a moment of escape in the darkness behind my lids. But instead of relief, I find her.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE