Martina, in her late twenties, cared about one thing: chairing all her meetings with enthusiasm and competence. She was terrified of being a liability to her pack in any way. What she didn't know was that mistakes are a phase—an essential part of both success and healthy leadership.
In her role as alpha, Martina treated herself toxically, often forgetting about her own needs to give all her attention to the pack. They were her priority. Her father hated that—deeply. Not because he loved her or feared for her wellbeing, but because he could see how fit she was for the position. Unlike him.
During the rare moments when Martina showed herself a bit of mercy and took a break for her mental health, she did one thing—hit the clubs or nightlife scenes. That was her guilty reward. And even though she did have fun, there was always a nasty feeling gnawing at her inside, ruining her enjoyment.
One night, after three straight months of intense work, Martina was completely burned out. Work haunted her every waking and sleeping moment—she was obsessed. But it was finally time for her reward.
A night out at a famous club—not your average one though. This club was filled with supernatural creatures like her. Werewolves, vampires, sirens, fox spirits, witches—you name it.
It was like a fever dream.
Martina was hyped to go. What she didn't know was that going there would change her life completely.
"We're gonna be late," Martina muttered, adjusting her helmet. A dramatic feminine groan behind her made her roll her blue eyes under the helmet. It was late, but Martina was determined to go—like something inside her was urging her not to overthink it.
"I'm not even fully ready!" The feminine voice approached. Martina shot her a scary glare—not that it could be seen through the helmet, but the blonde girl definitely felt it. With a heavy sigh, she climbed on behind Martina. Her short, curly hair barely brushed her ears, giving her a uniquely charming look.
That was Amara—Martina's only friend. Also the Beta's sister. They were childhood friends, close since forever. The ranks never got between them. In fact, they made their bond even stronger.
A single braid peeked from under Martina's helmet. Black, messy strands barely worthy of being called a braid—but she didn't care about her appearance as much as her surroundings.
The wind greeted them sharply as they sped off down the road. Amara's hands wrapped around Martina's waist, silently cursing her unlucky fate for ending up with a friend like this.
She was suffering, truly.
Her short leather jacket was unzipped, revealing the black shirt that clung to her curves. Martina was fit—and so was Amara. It came with the job. Pack duty required strength.
"Finally," Amara whispered as she removed her helmet, checking the bike's side mirror to make sure her makeup hadn't melted.
Her pale green eyes glanced toward Martina, who was scanning the line of bikes and cars.
She looked up at the glowing club sign. The name read: "Everything Unnatural". Amara snorted, barely holding back a laugh.
"Oh my god, that's the dumbest name I've ever seen. The owner must be insane."
"And we're even more insane for going in," Martina replied, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she silently dared Amara to enter. Amara gave her the same smile back and confidently walked toward the entrance. No guards. As if anyone brave enough to walk in would have to face what's inside.
"Oh my god…" Amara nearly choked on the air. Her lungs forgot how to function. The place was overloaded with smells—especially that of vampires and other supernaturals.
The moment they stepped in, every gaze turned toward them. Martina quickly whispered mentally to Amara:
"We're just ordinary werewolves. Lower your aura—now!"
Amara obeyed at once, smiling nervously. Internally, she muttered,
"Just two normal werewolves, what could possibly happen?"
Gradually, the pressure of all those stares faded. They both exhaled in relief.
Flashing lights pulsed to a thumping beat, just like any typical nightclub. But if you looked closely at the corners, you'd see a siren making out with a vampire. In another corner, a werewolf danced with a witch—as if the entire universe had signed a peace treaty and everyone was just… vibing.
"Gods, is that—? I think I'm gonna puke," Amara muttered, eyes wide and clutching her stomach. Martina next to her wrinkled her nose. There was a demon sharing drinks with a wizard and… yeah. Best not to mention what else they were doing.
"Let's sit at that table," Martina pointed toward a dark, hidden corner. Amara nodded, trying not to think about the disgusting sight she desperately wanted to forget.
"I thought this place would be wild and chaotic—I didn't think it'd be this crazy," Amara said, fiddling with her hair. Her pink crop top revealed moisturized, golden-brown skin at her waist. She wore faded ripped jeans that showed her knees.
"It's way beyond what I expected…" Martina replied, her eyes drifting toward the dancer on the platform above the bar. She swayed fearlessly, fire crackling dangerously close to her feet.
"Welcome to Everything Unnatural. Would you like alcoholic or non-alcoholic drinks?" A sudden voice snapped their attention forward.
A girl stood in front of them with long dark hair braided into twin plaits, glowing strands woven in, casting shadows over her wide, toothy smile.
"Alcohol, please. I'll take your strongest drink. And a shot of tequila for my friend," Martina answered. The two of them stared at the girl, unsure if she was nodding at them or to the music.
"Alright, I'll be back in a minute," the girl said, still smiling, and disappeared as suddenly as she appeared.
Martina and Amara locked eyes—completely expressionless for a second—then burst into wide grins.
"That was terrifying. Where the hell are we?" Amara said, shaking her head.
"I've got a feeling tonight's going to be different, Amara. Call me crazy or stupid—I don't care. I'm not leaving until I find out how this night ends," Martina said, feeling her wolf go unnaturally still. Something inside her was uneasy.
"I trust your instincts. I'm usually way more energetic, but today I feel weirdly sluggish…" Amara narrowed her eyes, then raised her brows as if she figured something out. "Maybe my period is coming!" She smiled smugly, proud of her brilliance.
Martina side-eyed her, barely holding back a laugh.
"Here you go!" The same girl returned, still smiling, and placed the drinks on their table before disappearing again. Martina didn't care—she grabbed her drink and started sipping. Amara glanced at her tequila, then at Martina, sighed, and took a shot herself.
Fifteen minutes later, the alcohol began to kick in—they didn't heal the effects too quickly on purpose. Martina's eyelids drooped as she scanned the crowd. More creatures were entering by the minute—including packs of werewolves.
She and Amara both looked up at the same time. The atmosphere thickened. The noise dulled.
A group of three had just entered.
They walked with confidence, and the crowd parted to let them through.
An oppressive aura.
These people were not normal. Even Martina and Amara could feel it. They watched as the trio moved up a staircase to the side—clearly VIPs.
Martina was just about to look away when the group stopped suddenly. They seemed to be communicating silently. Something was off.
Martina didn't know why she couldn't look away. Or why she was so invested—she wasn't usually this nosy. But this group felt powerful. Two men and a woman. Their presence had silenced the room.
Something strange.
"Martina…" her wolf whispered. Martina froze—right as the trio turned to look directly at their table.
Amara gasped, confirming her suspicions.
mate.