Copyright © 2021 by MKZian

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

- Author's Notes -

Scenes, characters, dialogues and events in this story are all invented. This story contains mature themes, profanity, violence, and sexual content not intended for young readers. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this story or plagiarism of any kind is prohibited by the law.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE PHOTOS ON THE COVER. FULL CREDITS TO THE OWNERS. [pexels.com]

P.S. 

Thank you for giving this a read! This is BOOK II of my first crime/romance/werewolf story.

Not your typical werewolf series. Enjoy!

× CHAPTER 1 × 

[ A D R I E N ]

"Darren Jablonsky."

He's the new person I'm supposed to become once I permanently settle here in LA...once I decide to go headfirst into the Hollywood celebrity life they expect me to just embrace with absolutely no qualms.

"Darren. Hi. I'm Darren," I mutter under my breath as I sit back in my new couch. My gaze roams the entire living room for a moment, reminding me of how empty and lifeless this new house looks. I mean, it has furniture and the bare necessities, but it feels empty. I don't like being alone at home.

Actually this isn't my home yet. I can only afford it for now because my dear sister loaned me some money for the down payment.

My brother-in-law, Magnus, came up with the new name last month. Our family name has to stay. Otherwise, Dad won't let me pursue a new career after leaving behind the world of professional sports.

Well, good enough sign that he doesn't always think I'm just a living, breathing, usually disappointing pile of embarrassment to our family.

"Darren" doesn't sound atrocious, either. It sounds "relatable" and "nice", Magnus said over the phone last time.

Frankly, I don't really care what he thinks and I don't trust the guy's judgment, but my sister still thinks the world of him.  Evonne actually wants to stay married to Magnus despite the rumors swirling around of him cheating on her, his devoted wife of ten years.

Or has it been longer than that? I don't remember. Don't really care, either.

Maybe it's all about money. Or his insatiable need for control and the amount of influence he has on her. Or maybe she just likes the companionship. I dunno...

Meh. I shouldn't care so much. It's their life. I'm just the spoiled, rebellious little brother. They still tolerate me for the most part, though.

Besides, I don't like thinking of Evonne as just another spineless woman who's blindly devoted her whole life to her husband, like my mother. Rest her soul...

My life's been shitty the past two years and our family issues will never go away, but I still love them. Without my sister, I won't last another year or get through another relapse with a sound mind.

Evonne is my only sister and sibling. We don't look alike and don't have a lot in common, but she's the only person I can really trust. Maybe the only one who will love and understand me no matter what.

"What's this?" She lifts a transparent sachet with something white and powdery in it, then throws the small piece of plastic onto the wooden coffee table in front of my bare legs. "Don't make me ask again."

"Sorry." I yawn and glance at the powdery stuff in the folded sachet. Days-old coke? Some crushed pain pills? I don't remember the shit I've snorted and bought this week.

The pretty and skinny brunette who kept me company all night rushed out the door before I could even piss the drugs out of my system. I don't even remember the first letter of her name. Or maybe she didn't tell me her real one.

"Newsflash, Jablonsky. 'Sorry' just doesn't cut it anymore."

"Fine. I apologize..."

"Sober up. Take a shower." Evonne rolls her commanding pale blue eyes while shaking her head weakly, her sigh as loud as the incessant pounding in my skull. "Really, Adrien... How many more times do I have to chuck you into rehab till I die?"

"Huh?" I fake a grin as I try to keep my heavy eyelids open. My entire body feels like a ten-wheeler ran me over last night, and this stupid throbbing hangover headache keeps screwing with my eyesight and concentration.

Arguing with her over rehab

again

isn't on my to-do list today. No thanks. Nor do I have the energy for a proper conversation. But I can still pretend to be half-conscious. Too easy. "Half-asleep" is my daytime persona.

"What time is it?" I let out another annoyingly loud yawn while rubbing the stupid glue out of my stinging eyes.

"Time for you to seriously reassess your choices and priorities."

"Mm-hmm."

"You're almost 30 and I still gotta clean up after you?" Evonne scoffs after picking up the piece of plastic on the coffee table.

The powdery stuff looks almost the same shade as her smooth, flawless skin. For someone pushing 40, she still looks great. Lush dark hair, a slim and fit physique, posture as rigid as her morals, pricey, wrinkle-free dresses that scream "yuppie" everywhere she goes...

Surprising how her husband still has yet to get her pregnant. She mentioned once or twice that it's a mutual decision to remain childless, but, I don't really buy it. I'll always put my money on "my husband's too busy making millions to care about raising kids"...because that's what Magnus Roiz is all about.

Money. Money. Money.

It must get really lonely for her most days. Housewife duties. Work. More housewife duties. More work.

Same shit every year. Ugh.

But since I'm still alive, maybe she thinks she's got one kid too many to babysit till she dies of stress or old age. Whichever gets her first.  "Where'd you get this crap?" 

"It's prolly not mine." I chuckle while trying my best to focus on the undeniable look of regret on her small, angular face.

Constantly disappointing her and our dad doesn't bring me joy, but, I can't really help it sometimes. I like to party. I'm young. I like having fun. I like pretty girls and their company. Sometimes too much. Maybe more often than I can recall.

"Where's the rest?"

"I'd tell you now, but my head's really killing me, sis."

"Of course."

"Argh!" I massage my forehead and close my eyes, perfecting my performance with loud grunts of pain.

She scoffs and proceeds to the kitchen sink with the piece of plastic.

Although reluctant, I follow her into the kitchen and lean against the counter. "Wait. Wait. Wai―"

"This is the last time. The last time," she stresses in a stern voice. "Get it together. Or he's not gonna hand you another favor next time. Say goodbye to your inheritance, too."

"Evie..."

"Good luck job-hunting on your own." My sister sighs while I keep up my pathetic groans of pain. She turns on the faucet before she rests her manicured hands on her hips, watching the drugs lose their purpose by the second, hopelessly going down the drain like my future.

When I step closer to the sink, her dark brows furrow at the same time her pointed nose scrunches up. Her vanilla-scented perfume assaults my nose and head so I take two steps backwards. I probably smell like a sweaty, crowded bar with hints of cheap hookers, but I know it's not what's really irritating her.

"How was Rome?" I put on a big smile while waiting for her to face me again.

"Cold and wet."

"Eww..." I stifle a laugh with my bourbon-smelling palm and rake my fingers through my greasy hair.  My breath reeks of death and rotting meat, but, not like it's the first time she's seen me like this.

"If you don't really want the job, just say so. I'll call Magnus."

"No. Don't." 

"Then stop this nonsense now."

Well, she's not wrong.  I'm getting too old for this rockstar wannabe lifestyle.  A part of me also  wants to make a big change.  I never said I don't want the new job her husband is offering me; I just don't know if it's the longtime career I want for myself.

Three overpriced acting classes don't really say much about my skills. I mean, I used to sing and play music in a lameass tribute band back in high school.  Then I did a few plays in college. But that's it. That's all of my "relevant" experience, really.

"He's not gonna force you to take the job. I won't, either. But like I said, this time, you go find one on your own. And Dad's back in the hospital, so I'm leaving in five."

"Yeah. I know. Sorry." I feign a more apologetic tone before giving her a loose hug. To my relief, Evie doesn't push me away. "What'd the doctor say?"

"Not much. Pay him a visit this week." While her cold fingers touch my beard, Evonne inspects my hair while a deep frown pouts her blood-red lips. Then she tilts my head to the side. "Do I need to drive you to the barber's myself?"

"Ehehehe... Please? Ran out of gas last night."

With closed eyes, Evonne fastens her dainty hand on her neck and faintly shakes her head. "Did your handler call yet?" 

"Who?"

"Lance Milton, your new manager."

"Oh. That guy." I chuckle as I walk away from her. "Yeah. Last week. Sent me the script."

"They plan to do the first table read next week. If you wanna back out, tell Magnus now. Just give him a call." Evonne sighs and itches her arched brow that's a shade lighter than her shiny raven-black hair. "But give it a try at least."

"Only if you'll stay here in LA."

No response.  She merely stares at me.

"Pretty, pretty please?"  I pout and put my palms together.

"Hmm...maybe," she mutters with a slight grin that etches small dimples near her lips.

"Tell him you're gonna be my other handler slash on-call therapist." I shrug and lean against the cold fridge. My bargaining may not work but I really don't want to live in this city by myself...away from family and working with total strangers who know nothing about me. "I mean, if I'm gonna be a Hollywood star soon, I'm gonna need both."

"Cheeky brat."

"Deal?" While holding back another laugh, I stretch my hand out for her to shake. I snicker when she completely ignores it. "What'd you guys do in Rome, anyway?"

"We fetched your future co-star. We'll have dinner with him and Magnus tonight. Look alive."

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