Chapter 40: Male Leads

Chapter 40: Chapter 40: Male Leads

Azura’s brain switched gears with the precision of a Formula 1 pit crew.

Two seconds. That’s all it took for her to run a full background check on the handsome stranger based on nothing but vibes and questionable logic.

Probability that this man is a male lead? Less than 10 percent.

Reason one: He’s coming out of the hotel with a suitcase. If he were a male lead, he’d only leave the hotel to buy food or brood dramatically in the rain. Not check out like a normal person. Male leads don’t check out of hotels. They depart mysteriously with a cryptic one-liner and a gust of wind.

Reason two: The male leads are the Blackwood triplets and their uncle. They’re a package deal. A buy-one-get-four-free situation. They don’t go anywhere alone. They travel like a boy band with anger issues and better jawlines. They’d bring their siblings, their betas, their emotional support wolves, and probably a camera crew. One lone guy with a suitcase? Background character. Extra. Possibly a minor accountant who made a wrong turn.

Reason three: This is a harem novel. A porn harem novel. The rules are clear—when the male leads first meet the female lead, they do it together. It’s a group activity. Like a field trip. A very handsome, very dangerous field trip.

Reason four—and this is the most important point—

Azura squinted at the stranger.

That man is not as handsome as Adrian.

And Adrian was just a side character!

There’s no way the male leads could be less handsome than a supporting character!! That would be a crime against romance novel physics!!

Case closed. Mystery solved. Azura was a genius.

Azura turned her full attention back to Adrian, ready to continue their conversation—only to find him staring at her like a puppy that had just been kicked.

His face was pale. His eyes were wide. He looked guilty, sad, and slightly nauseous, like he’d just eaten an entire cake and immediately regretted every life choice that led him to that moment.

Azura blinked.

"...What’s wrong with you?"

Adrian opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

The question he’d asked—You know about three days ago?—was stuck in his throat like a fishbone he couldn’t cough up.

He just stared at her.

Azura stared back.

"...????"

She was completely baffled. She’d only ignored him for like, ten seconds! Ten seconds! What happened in those ten seconds?? Did a ghost possess him?? Did he suddenly remember a traumatic childhood memory?? Did he realize he left the stove on??

Before she could interrogate him further, Adrian’s phone buzzed loudly, breaking the tension like a wrecking ball through a glass wall.

He grabbed it like a drowning man grasping a life raft.

"Wait for me a moment—it’s a work call."

And then he practically SPRINTED to the corner of the lobby, fleeing the conversation like a man escaping a burning building.

Azura watched him go, her head tilted so far to the side she looked like a confused golden retriever.

"...Okay. That was weird."

She shook her head. Whatever. She had bigger things to worry about. Like breaking up with Adrian. Properly. Not his dad. ADRIAN. She needed to remember that this time. No more accidental father-dumping. That was a disaster she did NOT want to repeat.

A serious expression on her face as she mentally rehearsed her breakup script.

’Adrian, it’s not you, it’s me. Actually, no, that’s cliché. Try again. Adrian, I’ve realized that I need to focus on myself right now. Wait, that sounds like I’m joining a monastery. Ugh. Okay, okay... Adrian, I think we should see other people. No, that implies I already have someone else. Which I don’t. Unless you count fictional characters from the novels Iris made me read, and I don’t think that counts.’

She was so deep in her mental rehearsal that she almost missed the buzz of her own phone.

Almost.

Her eyes snapped down to the screen, and a grin spread across her face when she saw the notification.

Hot Alphas (16)

Finally! Some real content!

She unlocked her phone with the speed of a woman who had been waiting for this moment all day. Her thumb hovered over the screen as she read the message.

FurRealTho sent a photo.

She tapped it open.

And then her brain short-circuited.

Because staring back at her from the group chat was a photo of ADRIAN.

Adrian. On the phone. In the corner of the lobby. RIGHT NOW. The same Adrian who had just fled from her like she’d announced she had cooties.

The photo was clearly taken less than a minute ago—she could see the exact same potted plant behind him that she’d been staring at while rehearsing her breakup speech. And the angle was suspiciously low.

Azura’s eye twitched.

She scrolled down to read the rest of the message.

FurRealTho: [My alpha is at this hotel too!! Damn, he’s hot as always! Too bad he’s with his girlfriend right now. Ah, wait—I’m getting sidetracked! GUYS I NEED YOUR OPINIONS. Should I run away from here? I’m currently hiding under a table close to my alpha, and the people sitting at this table are a grandma with Alzheimer’s and her caregiver. I have committed several sins today but none worse than what I am experiencing right now. SHE KEEPS FARTING. It’s like biological warfare. But if I come out now, Alpha Adrian will KNOW! If he finds out I’m stalking alphas from other packs, will I get kicked out?? Be honest. I can handle the truth. I cannot handle another twenty minutes of grandma’s ass trumpet.]

MyDarling50: [I’ll adopt you into our pack! But you need to HANG IN THERE and take photos of Alpha Kyler! P.S.: Take more photos of your alpha too! And HOLD YOUR BREATH. That’s not toxic gas from the elderly—that’s a sacrifice for the sisterhood. You’re doing god’s work. Stay strong.]

SexyButts: [Wow, your alpha is HOT. Too bad he has a girlfriend—otherwise, he’d be prime target material for this group. But listen, stay strong, sisters. ONE of the room attendants I bribed said Alpha Caesar just came out of Alpha Caelus’s room and knocked on Alpha Kyler’s door! She overheard them say they’re going to have brunch together before getting ready to go somewhere!]

SexyButts: [Thank the moon goddess they’re FINALLY leaving their rooms. I’ve been motionless for THREE HOURS pretending to be one of the statues in the fountain lobby. My legs are dead. My soul is gone. I have achieved enlightenment through suffering. I AM THE STATUE NOW.]

LunaInTraining: [I’m still hiding behind a bush outside the hotel!! GIVE ME A NOTICE WHEN THEY FINALLY HIT THE LOBBY. I’ll shoot so many photos of them you’ll think paparazzi retired and passed the torch to me.]

Azura stared at her phone.

She knew this group was insane. She knew they were unhinged. She knew they treated stalking like a competitive sport.

But she did NOT expect them to be this committed.

She slowly lifted her gaze and scanned the lobby like a Secret Service agent at a presidential rally.

Where. Are. They.

Her eyes swept past the reception desk. Past the potted plants. Past the fountain where—she squinted—was that a woman’s eyeball reflecting light from behind the stone cherub?

And then she saw it.

The table not far from Adrian.

An elderly woman sat there, peacefully munching on what appeared to be a mix of lentils, peas, garlic, and cheese—a combination so foul it could be classified as a chemical weapon. Next to her, a caregiver was politely pretending not to notice the occasional... acoustic emissions coming from the grandma’s general direction.

And beneath the table? Azura could just barely make out the silhouette of a grown woman curled into a fetal position, holding her breath like a soldier in a chemical warfare zone.

Azura mouthed a silent prayer for her.

May the nose of the righteous be spared.

Her head swiveled back toward the lobby fountain.

A grand, luxurious structure with marble nymphs and stone maidens frozen in elegant poses. Water cascaded beautifully around them. Tourists took pictures. Children threw coins.

And one of the statues—one of the women—was sitting in a pose that was just slightly... too human.

The woman’s body was painted completely white. She was holding a pose so still that even a Buddhist monk on a decade-long meditation retreat would be impressed. Her eyes didn’t blink. Her chest didn’t rise.

But Azura saw it.

The tiniest, most microscopic twitch of the woman’s eyeball as she glanced at her phone—which was tucked into the folds of her marble-painted dress—and typed a response in under one second before freezing again.

Holy. Shit.

This woman was a professional. A master of her craft. A true artist of insanity.

Azura felt a strange mixture of horror, respect, and existential dread.

She slowly turned her gaze back to her phone, her thumb hovering over the keyboard.

"...What do I even say to this?"

She had so many questions.

Why? How? For how long? And most importantly—was the white paint waterproof?

Azura’s gaze then drifted to AlphaGroupie88, currently crouched behind a potted plant like a tactical operative who had watched one too many action movies.

Except now, something had changed.

The "human bedsheet"—as Azura had mentally dubbed her—had finally noticed the six toddlers who had been staring at her for the past fifteen minutes. Their little faces were blank. Unblinking. Like a cult of miniature judgmental monks who had decided she was unworthy.

Two of them had begun poking her with toy swords.

Poke.

Poke.

AlphaGroupie88 remained frozen, her eyes wide, sweat beading on her forehead as she clearly tried to decide whether breaking cover was worth being stabbed by a plastic Excalibur.

Azura’s mouth twitched.

She had previously classified this woman as a complete idiot. But now, watching her sit there like a gargoyle being assaulted by preschoolers, Azura felt she needed to revise her assessment.

The woman was only a partial idiot. A beginner-level idiot. Because clearly—clearly—there were people in this world who had ascended to levels of idiocy that AlphaGroupie88 could only dream of reaching.

Case in point: the woman pretending to be a marble statue in the fountain.

Case in point: the woman hiding under a table next to a lentil-and-garlic-fueled grandma.

Case in point: every single member of this godforsaken group chat.

Azura felt a strange sense of pride. She may be a stalker-reformed villainess with questionable life choices, but at least she had never painted herself white and sat still for three hours just to catch a glimpse of an alpha’s bicep.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. Then started vibrating like it was having a seizure.

She looked down.

LunaQueen☆: [!!!!!!!!!!!!]

LunaQueen☆: [!!!!!!!!!!!!]

LunaQueen☆: [!!!!!!!!!!!!]

The notifications exploded like a digital aneurysm. One hundred messages. Two hundred. The chat was moving so fast that Azura couldn’t even read the individual texts—just a blur of exclamation marks, screaming emojis, and what appeared to be someone typing in wingdings from pure excitement.

What. The. Hell. Was. Happening.

She assumed this was the signal—the moment everyone in the group had been waiting for. The Blackwood family had finally left their suite. They were descending. They were coming down.

Azura’s eyes locked onto the elevator doors with the intensity of a hawk spotting its prey. Her fingers gripped the phone so hard she thought the screen might crack.

The elevator dinged.

The doors slid open.

And four elementary school children stepped out, laughing and chasing each other with sticky candy-covered hands.

Azura stared.

She stared so hard she felt her retinas dry out.

For a brief, insane moment—a moment she would later deny ever happening—she almost convinced herself that the Blackwood triplets and their uncle had somehow been cursed into the bodies of fourth graders. That the male leads were now a pack of ten-year-olds with backpacks and juice boxes. That she had fallen into another alternate dimension where alpha males came in sizes XS.

"...No. No, that’s not how this novel works."

She exhaled slowly.

And then—

The elevator dinged again.

The doors opened.

And Azura’s breath caught in her throat.

Seven men stepped out.

Seven tall men. Seven men who radiated the kind of presence that made the air in the lobby shift, made conversations falter, made heads turn like flowers following the sun.

She didn’t need a group chat to confirm it.

She didn’t need a photo or a name or a confirmation.

Her soul—her very bones—screamed at her with absolute certainty.

These were the male leads.