Hope Is Not Optional — Manuel Flores 101
1011 The Slayer of Men
101 The Slayer of Men
Selene
“Oh my goodness, look at her. She’s so beautiful.”
“I know, right? I was so surprised when I heard the Alpha brought a woman into the pack, but I never expected her to look like this.”
“Look at her hair, black and white. I want to touch it.”
“No, don’t. You can’t just touch the Alpha’s woman whenever you want.”
The voices drifted around me, soft at first, then louder, layering over one another until they became impossible to ignore. I frowned faintly, my head throbbing as if someone had split it open and forgotten to put it back together properly. My body ached in a deep, unfamiliar way, and every sound felt louder than it should have been.
I turned my face to the other side of the bed, eyes still closed, hoping the movement would help drown them out, that this would all disappear if I ignored it long enough.
“Oh gods, she moved. I thought she’d be completely knocked out after last night with Alpha Damien. She’s really strong.”
My brow furrowed.
Last night… with Alpha Damien?
The words didn’t register at first. They floated around my mind without sinking in, as if my thoughts refused to accept them.
Why would I spend the night with him? With that demon of the West?
The confusion lingered for only a moment before my senses betrayed me. A familiar scent clung to the sheets beneath me, to my skin, to my hair. My heart dropped violently in my chest.
Even if I couldn’t recognize anyone else by scent, I would always recognize his.
People never forget the scent of someone they fear.
Alpha Damien.
It was everywhere.
“Maybe we should-”
I didn’t let whoever it was finish. I jolted upright, dragging the sheet with me to cover my body. The sudden movement sent a sharp jolt of pain through me, especially between my legs. I gasped, my eyes flying open as the ache brutally grounded me back to reality. And just like that, the memories crashed into me all at once.
Last night. The room. His eyes. His hands. His touches.
The realization hit me so hard it felt like cold water had been poured over my head in the dead of winter. I froze, sitting there on the bed, heart pounding so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it. My fingers tightened in the sheets as if that alone could hold me together.
I had slept with him.
I had given my first time to Alpha Damien, the cold–blooded demon everyone feared, the man I could barely look in the eye without my nerves tightening. For a moment, I couldn’t even breathe properly. My thoughts spiraled, my chest feeling too tight, my skin too sensitive, every sensation reminding me of what I’d done.
How could I have done that?
I had been desperate, yes, my heat had pushed me to the edge, but even so, of all the men in the world, I had chosen him. I had always been the one who made the right and careful decisions, the ones that kept me alive through countless lifetimes. And yet last night, I had crossed a line that couldn’t be erased.
At the time, it had felt like the only solution.
Now, sitting there with his scent still clinging to me and the whispers of strangers filling the room, it felt less like a solution and more like a sentence.
A death sentence.
I closed my eyes again and lifted a hand to my head praeeing n fingers against my temple as if that alone could calm the chaos inside me. My entire body ached, deep, Successfully unlocked! ed me of every reckless choice I’d made the night before. It wasn’t surprising. With how ma. Show unrestrained he’d been, I would be lucky if I could even walk properly today.
So this was the consequence.
This was what I got for giving myself to him simply because I couldn’t control my body.
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1011 The Slayer of Men
I inhaled slowly, then exhaled, forcing my racing thoughts to settle even as the dull ache between my legs throbbed in protest. My limbs felt heavy, and weak, as if they didn’t fully belong to me yet.
‘Oh, she’s awake.‘
The thought slipped into my mind without warning, so sudden and invasive that my body stiffened.
‘And she looks even more beautiful when she’s awake.‘
I frowned.
My eyes snapped open, and I finally took in my surroundings. Five women sat around the bed, all of them on the floor, gazing up at me with open curiosity. No, calling them beautiful felt insufficient. Ethereal was closer. They wore white dresses that bared their shoulders and legs without shame, the fabric light and flowing, clinging to them as if it had been designed to worship their bodies.
Their style was nothing like Mooncrest.
At the Mooncrest pack, a woman dressed like this would be whispered about, judged, called desperate or indecent. Yet here, there was no vulgarity in the way they dressed, only confidence. They looked stunning, as if the world had no right to say what to do with their bodies.
I stared at them. They stared back at me.
Slowly, my confusion deepened.
Who were they?
And more importantly, where was I?
The last thing I remembered clearly was Damien opening a door one moment we were at the banquet, the next everything had shifted. At the time, I hadn’t cared enough to question it, after all, his kisses felt so good. Now, lying in an unfamiliar bed surrounded by unfamiliar women, I cared very much.
I pushed myself up slightly, wincing at the protest from my muscles, and met their gazes with a sharp, calculating look.
“Where am I?” I asked.
The women exchanged glances. One of them opened her mouth, clearly about to answer, when another elbowed her sharply in the side. She winced and immediately shut her mouth lowering her head instead.
So they didn’t want to talk.
I exhaled through my nose. Of course. That made things easier and harder at the same time. I had no intention of wasting time playing guessing games. If they wouldn’t speak, I would simply read their minds. They weren’t that powerful, nothing like the alphas and beasts I’d dealt with before. It would take barely any effort.
Just as I focused my senses, preparing to reach out, the door opened.
My attention snapped toward the sound, my body tensing instinctively.
A woman walked in, dressed in a fitted black shirt and black pants, her short hair framing her sharp features. In her arms was a small white cat, lazily curled as if the world held no threats worth worrying about. The woman’s steps were unhurried, confident, and when her eyes landed on me, a playful smile curved her lips.
I knew her.
I knew her far too well.
My fingers curled into the sheets. In my past life, she had been one of the warriors who slaughtered my people without hesitation, and mercy. She had moved lazily through the battlefield, cutting down my warriors as if they were nothing more than obstacles in her path.
She was one of Damien’s inner circle.
People called her Androphonos. The Slayer of Men.
The smile on her face didn’t fade as she tilted her head slightly, watching me with interest, as if she were looking at something entertaining.
So this was where I was.
I was in the den of monsters.
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