CHAPTER 68: THE PARTY

Kaya

The banquet is already in full swing by the time Sam, Oliver, and I arrive at the hall to join the celebrations.

Unlike in Dark Wood, where every banquet or party is a display of luxury and status, this gathering—though still undeniably grand—feels more familiar. More cozy.

It almost reminds me of something out of a young adult movie: everyone looks rich and elegant, but they’re actually having fun. There’s laughter, warmth, and an ease in the air that I’m not used to.

There’s no tension. No fear. No sense of forced submission. No subtle, unspoken threats or unwanted touches. Just a party. A real celebration.

And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel out of place at one.

"Good, they hired a bartender!" Samantha exclaims the moment her eyes catch the sight of a sleek little bar tucked in the far corner of the hall. "Let’s go get something nice to drink!"

Without waiting for my response, she grabs my arm and drags me across the room, her eyes alight with excitement.

"You really enjoy drinking, don’t you?" I ask, trying not to sound judgmental. Back in Dark Wood, alcohol had been my only escape—my only comfort when I couldn’t be with Damien. But since moving here, sobriety has felt... peaceful. Healing.

"Don’t give me that look," Sam says, frowning slightly, though her tone is playful, not offended. "I do enjoy the occasional bottle of wine—especially if I didn’t have to buy it myself—but this is different. Every drink tastes better at a great party... and even better when it’s shared with amazing company."

She throws me a playful wink, but her smile falters almost immediately when Oliver saunters over and leans casually against the bar beside her.

"Shall we entertain ourselves with our usual tonight?" he asks, his eyes narrowing with a familiar, teasing challenge as he looks Samantha up and down.

She rolls her eyes, then leans over the counter to grab two martini glasses, passing one to me. "I don’t mind the ’usual,’ but I’d like to spend some time with Kaya first."

A quiet chuckle escapes me as I watch the spark of their signature banter ignite. "I don’t mind," I say, taking a small sip from my martini. The crisp liquid slides coolly over my tongue. "In fact, I’d really like to see what this mysterious ’usual’ is."

Samantha sighs dramatically, then downs her entire martini in one swift motion like it’s a shot. She exhales and shakes her head slightly as the smooth burn slides down her throat. "It’s nothing special," she says. "Oliver just keeps challenging me to drinking contests—we chug beer until one of us gives up. The loser, as always, buys the winner an overpriced bottle of wine."

"A hangover gift?" I scoff, still nursing my drink with considerably more caution.

Oliver chuckles and signals to the bartender for the first pitcher. "More like a consolation prize, really. If you saw how much we drink during those rounds, you’d understand. The hangovers are so brutal they deserve something expensive just to make surviving feel worth it."

I can’t help but flash him a sarcastic smile. With my wolf lying dormant most of the time, I’m an easy target for intoxication—one drink and I’m already lightheaded. But proper werewolves? They’re built differently. It takes barrels of alcohol to even get them tipsy. Honestly, I’m not even sure this place is stocked with enough liquor to get them drunk tonight.

"I know what you’re thinking," Oliver practically sings, a hint of mischief threading through his tone. "But trust me—we’ve got enough alcohol to flood this entire mansion."

"I believe you," I sing back, grabbing another martini just as Samantha polishes off her fourth. "Goddess, Sam, slow down!"

"No, no, no," she waves her hands dramatically, swallowing the drink like it’s nothing more than water. "This is how I warm up. I need a few more to get in the zone."

"What?!" My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline as I turn to Oliver, completely bewildered. He meets my gaze with a knowing look and simply shrugs.

"What can I say? Her stomach wants what it wants."

"You guys are insane," I laugh nervously, already picturing the monster hangover Sam is going to wake up with tomorrow.

"Well, I’m ready!" Sam declares, slapping Oliver’s shoulder with a grin. "Order the beers!"

"I guess I’ll leave you two to it," I say, pushing away from the bar—only to be stopped by Sam’s hand slamming down on the counter.

"Come on, stay! Don’t you want to see how it all goes down?"

"It’s alright," I say, shaking my head gently as I pat Sam on the shoulder. "I’ll be back in an hour to check up on you two, okay?"

"Alright," she pouts again, clearly not thrilled about being left alone with Oliver. "But don’t forget! I’ll need you to make sure this jackass plays fair!"

Her pout vanishes the moment she glances at Oliver, who looks distinctly unimpressed by her lack of faith in his integrity.

"Hey, I’m always fair," he protests, throwing his hands up.

"Yeah, yeah. Just start ordering already, will you?"

Their endless bantering pulls another smile from me. It’s comforting to see them like this—so at ease with each other. I sensed something between them the first time I saw them standing side by side, but now? Now it’s undeniable. They belong together. Goddess’s decision or not.

Now that they’ve launched into their usual dynamic and left me to myself, I suddenly find I don’t quite know what to do. I glance around the hall, scanning the crowd, but the sight makes a strange sort of sadness well in my chest.

Everyone’s having a good time—laughing, dancing, talking in close circles. And here I am. Alone. Companyless. Probably standing out like a sore thumb in the middle of it all.

"And I don’t even have a drink," I mutter to myself.

No sooner do the words leave my lips than a manicured hand appears in front of me, swirling a fresh martini glass between polished fingers—offering it like a secret.

Before I can even process where it came from, a familiar voice purrs beside me.

"Don’t worry. I got you."

I freeze, eyes going wide in disbelief.

"Gloria?"