Scarred by Moonlight

Chapter 10: Poker Face

Grayson leaned back in his chair, the glow of the penthouse’s dim lighting casting shadows across his sharp features. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip, savoring the warmth of the whiskey. Every so often he lifted his phone and texted his mate back. Across the poker table, Ryker slammed his cards down with exaggerated force, a scowl etched into his face.

“You’re pathetic, Grayson,” Ryker muttered. “How many times has Estella texted you tonight? Didn’t she give your balls back before you left, or is your leash invisible now?”

Grayson smirked, unfazed. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Ryker. Maybe if you spent less time chasing every skirt in the pack and more time appreciating Ashley, you’d know what it’s like to have someone worth missing. But your mother did raise a shameless flirt, didn’t she?”

Ryker scoffed, leaning back with an exaggerated shrug. “Whipped. You’re whipped, Grayson. Call it whatever makes you sleep better at night, but don’t expect me to admire your domesticated life.”

“Domesticated?” Grayson chuckled, his voice low and steady. “Coming home to someone who loves you—someone who makes you better—doesn’t make me weak. It makes me whole. You’ll see, Ryker. One day, when you stop running, maybe you’ll understand.”

Ryker waved him off with a dismissive laugh, but Olrun wasn’t paying attention. He flicked his cards idly, his expression unreadable, though his mind was miles away. The whiskey burned on his tongue, but it wasn’t enough to drown the memory of her.

River.

Her whiskey-colored eyes had seared into his soul earlier that day, the sweet taste of her lips still haunting him. That kiss—it had been intimate and raw, unlike anything he’d ever allowed himself to feel. River wasn’t part of his plans. She was chaos wrapped in allure, a distraction that left him off-balance and exposed. He wasn’t supposed to think about her. She wasn’t supposed to matter.

And yet, there she was, laughing in his mind, haunting him with her warmth.

He’d been so desperate to know everything about the damn woman that he’d used his top wolves, including Kade, to dig up every scrap of information he could find about her right after meeting her. Everything about her former pack, her parents, her friends. Hell, he’d asked Kade to track down every bastard who’d ever asked her out.

The file was on his nightstand, and he read it every night before he went to sleep and dreamt of her.

Grayson’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Having Estella in my life, it made me better. That’s all I’m saying. Love, boys. It’s not so bad.”

Olrun’s gaze snapped to him, but he didn’t reply. The teasing slid off him like water on stone, but his own turmoil was harder to dismiss. Grayson’s contentment only reminded him of how fractured he felt.

“Seraphine sticking around still, huh?” Ryker’s smirk widened. “Must be a hell of a thing to have a snake-hearted b***h for a mate. Cold-blooded, just like you.”

Olrun’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into a fist. “Seraphine isn’t my mate,” he said, his voice low and measured.

It was true. Seraphine was convenience—a polished, ambitious partner who served his image and needs without demanding more than he was willing to give. There was no love between them, no bond deeper than shared ambition. And yet, Ryker’s words stung.

He wasn’t sure why.

Maybe because he knew River deserved better.

Ryker leaned forward, his grin mischievous. “So, who’s got you so distracted then? You’ve been staring at those cards for five minutes like they’ve got the answer to all your problems.”

“Mind your own business,” Olrun snapped, his tone colder than intended.

Ryker’s laugh was sharp, unrelenting. “Oh, come on. We’re all friends here. Tell me—who’s the lucky girl? You know I’ve been dying to know what’s finally got you acting human.”

Grayson watched the exchange in silence, his gaze sharp as he folded his arms. He seemed to sense something deeper brewing beneath the surface.

Olrun’s phone buzzed on the table, cutting through the tension. He grabbed it instinctively, his stomach twisting when he saw the name on the screen. Seraphine.

He opened the message reluctantly, his jaw clenching as he saw the attached photo—a nude shot of her sprawled across her pale silver sheets, a clear invitation. She looked perfect, but the sight left him cold.

It should’ve been enough. It always had been before. But tonight, it wasn’t what he wanted.

River’s face flashed in his mind again, unbidden. Her laugh, her stubbornness, her damn scent. She was everything he didn’t want to need.

Olrun tossed the phone onto the table, ignoring the rising tension in his chest.

“Booty call?” Grayson asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

Olrun didn’t answer. Instead, he gathered his cards and stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor.

“Game’s over,” he muttered, the finality in his tone silencing any further comments.

He turned toward the door, desperate to escape the room and the weight of his own thoughts. But before he could leave, a knock echoed through the penthouse.

Olrun opened the door, his sharp retort ready, but the words caught in his throat when he saw who stood there.

The man was his mirror image, almost eerily so. Broad shoulders, caramel skin, and chiseled features that mirrored Olrun’s own—except his eyes were a piercing blue, his brown hair brushing his shoulders. And he was smiling.

Before Olrun could react, the stranger swept him into a tight embrace.

“Cousin! Damn good to see you, man!”

Ryker and Grayson exchanged a look of utter confusion, both speaking in unison.

“Cousin?!”

Olrun’s mind raced as he pulled back from the embrace, his eyes narrowing on the man who so boldly claimed kinship. His gut told him this meeting wasn’t a coincidence.