The Messenger( Iva) novel Chapter 45

Sergio-1

+25 Points

The city did not care who she was.

It did not care that she had escaped a brutal pack, that she had defied an Alpha, that she carried the blood of a Gamma and the calling of the Messenger. The streets swallowed her whole, indifferent and relentless, and by the third night, Iva was starting to understand something painfully simple.

Freedom was expensive.

She rented another cheap hostel room, this one even worse than the last. The walls were thin, stained with the ghosts of strangers who had passed through before her. The mattress dipped in the middle, and the air smelled faintly of mold and detergent that tried-and failed-to hide it. But it had a lock. And for now, that was enough.

She sat on the edge of the bed, counting the bills in her hand again. And again. And again.

Her money was draining far faster than she had planned.

Three months.

That was what she needed. Almost three months until the Lycan Academy dorms opened their gates, until food and shelter would no longer be things she had to fight for every single day. Three months of rent, food, transport, a prepaid phone plan, clothes that didn’t scream runaway.

Her chest tightened.

“I underestimated this,” she murmured, rubbing her face with both hands.

Avalon stirred quietly inside her, her presence steady but concerned. You are learning. Survival outside a pack is… unforgiving.

The next days blurred together in exhaustion and rejection.

She walked until her legs burned, feet sore in worn shoes, entering one place after another with the same fragile hope tucked behind her ribs. Cafés. Bakeries. Small shops. Laundromats. Convenience stores. Even a dingy bar that reeked of stale beer and regret.

Everywhere, it was the same.

Do you have experience?

We’ll call you.

We’re not hiring right now.

You’re too young.

You don’t have references.

The rejections stacked up, each one heavier than the last.

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By the end of the week, her smile had become mechanical, her voice quieter. She learned to nod politely while swallowing the sting, learned to turn away before her eyes betrayed her desperation. The city did not

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< Sergio 1

kick you while you were down-it simply stepped over you.

One evening, as she passed a neon-lit strip club, music pounding through the walls, she stopped.

Just for a second.

Her stomach twisted.

No, she told herself immediately, jaw tightening. Not that, Never that.

Avalon growled softly in agreement. You are worth more than desperation.

But worth didn’t pay rent.

+25 Points

The doubt crept in late at night, curling around her like smoke. Lying on the thin mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling, she questioned everything. Her escape. Her pride, Her choices.

What if I made a mistake?

What if I was safer as a prisoner than as a free failure?

The thoughts terrified her more than any Alpha ever had.

The next morning, she woke with dark circles under her eyes and something hard settling in her chest.

If the lower-end places wouldn’t take her, then she would aim higher.

It sounded insane even to her.

High-end restaurants didn’t hire inexperienced girls with no references and cheap clothes. They hired polished professionals, people who belonged in crisp uniforms and spoke with confidence.

But desperation made people daring.

That was how she found herself standing in front of Emilio, an upscale Italian restaurant tucked between glass-fronted buildings and luxury boutiques. White tablecloths. Soft lighting. The scent of basil, garlic, and something rich and intoxicating in the air.

Her hands trembled as she pushed the door open.

She hadn’t even stepped fully inside when she felt it.

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