Chapter 31 Moon Bar Trouble
Leslie’s POV – Moon Bar
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Unlike the emotionally reserved Thorbane, Astrid had always been wild and passionate. The two of them complemented each other perfectly.
I fully supported the idea of them becoming mates.
But Astrid’s pack–Tempest Pack–was more traditional. They believed deeply in destined bonds between werewolves. So her father, the alpha of Tempest Pack, hadn’t been in a hurry to find her a match.
Poor Thorbane still had some work to do.
That night, I agreed to meet Astrid at a well–known bar in Central City–Moon Bar.
This place wasn’t exclusive to high–ranking packs. On the contrary, it was infamous for its chaos, its mix of all kinds of people. It was the kind of place where werewolves went to chase thrills or dig up underground intel.
The air was thick with the sharp scent of moonshine, clashing pheromones from wolves of all ranks, sweat, and a faint metallic trace of blood.
The pounding of drums—raw, primal—slammed into your chest. Under the dim, flickering lights, werewolves twisted and writhed on the dance floor, releasing all that extra energy.
Asphodel stayed alert inside me. The energy here is chaotic, Leslie… but also kind of fun.
Astrid and I found a relatively quiet booth and sat down.
She seemed especially hyped tonight. Probably because she was about to lead her first mission. She downed glass after glass of a local specialty–the notorious “Wolf Blood” liquor, known for hitting hard after a delay.
Before long, her pale cheeks turned pink, and her eyes grew unfocused.
“Leslie…” she swayed to her feet and grabbed my hand, trying to pull me toward the dance floor. “Come dance! This music is… so good!”
I smiled helplessly. I was just about to hold her back, but she broke free and stumbled into the crowd, quickly losing herself to the rhythm.
I shook my head, picked up the lower–proof fruit wine in front of me, and quietly watched her.
But trouble has a habit of finding you when you least expect it.
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13:09 Mon, Sep 15
Chapter 31 Moon Bar Trouble
:
A group of large, aggressive–looking werewolves had noticed Astrid alone.
Their scent was messy and hostile–likely exiled Rogues or low–tier gang muscle.
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The one leading them was a Beta werewolf with knotted muscles and a black eyepatch. His one remaining eye glinted with greed and lechery as he made his way toward her.
“Well, now, pretty girl, dancing alone isn’t much fun. Let big brother keep you company,” he said, reaching out to grab Astrid’s arm, his voice sleazy.
Astrid might have been drunk, but her high–level Beta instincts were still intact. She frowned and tried to shake him off, muttering, “Get lost…”
“Oho, feisty one!” The eyepatch didn’t let go. In fact, he tightened his grip. The others started closing in, laughing crudely, their eyes full of ill intent.
Asphodel let out a cold, low growl inside me.
I set my glass down and stood up, walking slowly toward them.
I didn’t release any Alpha pressure–I just walked up calmly and stepped between them and Astrid.
“Let her go.”
I didn’t raise my voice, but there was a cold edge to it that left no room for argument.
The eyepatch froze for a second, surprised someone dared to interfere. He looked me up and down—and when he saw my face, a flash of surprise crossed his expression, quickly replaced by an even sleazier grin.
He must’ve recognized me from the recent gossip online.
“Well, look who it is. The famous Crimson Moon Pack Luna–or wait, not anymore, huh? What’s the matter? Got kicked out and came crawling to places like this for fun?” He smirked, trying to provoke me.
I stared at him blankly and repeated, “Let her go.”
“Let her go?” He licked his lips, eyes roaming over me without shame. “I mean, sure… but shouldn’t you give us a little something in return?” He pointed to a pint of dark beer sitting on the bar. It had clearly been tampered with and gave off a strange, unfamiliar scent. “How about this, ‘Princess‘-you drink that, and I’ll let your pretty little friend go. Fair trade, yeah?”
His buddies burst out laughing even louder.
Asphodel’s fury was at the brink. He’s insulting you, Leslie! Kill him!
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