I take a long sip from the glass and I don't even feel the alcohol in the punch. You can pour more.

“If there is a devil in the world, then his name is Cloud,” I squeeze out hoarsely from myself, barely touching the small scratch on my throat, which was left from a night run, when he slashed his claw, drawing my blood to make our sex even more animalistic.

“Oh yes,” she laughs, shaking her head like a Chinese dummy. “He's very, incredibly cool. Thanks to him, I have been using it for the second night for its intended purpose. And you know how?

She giggles again, incredibly nasty, by the way, and I take another glass, feeling like I might break down and punch her in the face with my free hand. From afar, I see how Cloud winces - he feels my displeasure. He barely noticeably shakes his head disapprovingly, and I understand him without words: I need to be more friendly with the mayor's girlfriend, this is still a political interest, politeness.

By the way, if the mayor tells Cloud that he wants me, my husband will put me under this old man? It would be interesting to see his reaction.

I drink again so as not to think about the answer.

- Last Night of Justice, - the voice of the profurset comes to my inflamed consciousness, - I ordered my ex's daddy from the guards. Paid a little, hinted only that he wants to start dating me again. The next morning they found him in the forest.

- What about the previous one? I wheeze, thinking distantly, who was her ex: a wolf or a young boy?

- To the previous one - my algebra teacher.

I arch an eyebrow, showing my surprise.

- Yes, yes, I'm terribly tired of her, - the girl grimaces, trying to portray a woman who has already died. “Susie, you don’t have to be so dumb! Susie, don't slow down like that!" And so constantly.

Did you order it because of your grades? - I ask again, rather for the sake of formality.

- Certainly! she shows her white teeth in a grin.

- Don't you think that a woman has orphaned children? What is her family mourning?

- Daddy gave me a ticket for it! - the girl replies harshly, and I think that in society with this heartless fool I won’t be able to hold out for even a second. Due to the fact that she could not prove that she had brains at school, or a lyceum, or some other educational institution, she solved the issue simply: by “ordering” a teacher.

Luna help me!

“Sorry, I need to go to the toilet,” I don’t make any curtseys in her direction and slowly wander to the exit of the room, because I’m afraid to do something stupid and cling to her face, with my own hands I start to do OWN justice.

Cloud's eyes burn a hole in me. I feel his eyes on my back. He is unhappy that I am leaving the big hall, but I hold on. I don't look at him anymore, I don't look back. After all, can I visit the restroom alone, or not?

Entering the toilet cubicle, I close it with a bolt. I sit on the toilet and try to catch my breath. I squeeze my hands so tightly that crescents of nails remain on the pads - just a little more and blood will be shed.

I breathe raggedly, with my whole chest. From being in a trap. From the fact that I feel as bad as never before. Because there is no way out of this trap. Only one is death, but I have not yet despaired enough to take my own life.

The girl is right: Cloud invented the Night of Justice. It was two years ago. And if initially it was decided that it would be held once a year, now announcements about it are heard constantly - more than once every three to four months. "Tickets" for the shooting of the guilty are distributed right and left, and I am surprised that the population of our small town has not yet reached three people.

Although it's a matter of time, I think. If the "tickets" have access to such pigalis who do not value human and werewolf souls, the city does not have long to go.

I wipe the tears that have risen - a sign of weakness - and get up. A delay of a few extra minutes is fraught with the fact that soon Cloud or his faithful henchmen will appear here - guards, die-hard werewolves. I would not want to appear before them in this form: tear-stained, locked in a toilet stall, mourning herself and her city.

I leave the booth, straighten the dress to fit, fix my makeup. I open the door outside and come face to face with a catering worker whose blue uniform says "Water." I want to ask him for water. But I understand that it will be very stupid: he was clearly just setting up coolers with fresh water for those who are hiding in the most guarded hole during the Night of Justice. Or maybe the employee of the company himself decided to hide from enemies here. This has already happened, and I have no right to blame people and werewolves for this: everyone survives as best they can.

It's strange, but I don't smell any smell from him: neither human nor werewolf. But I think in a detached way that it could be from fatigue. And that didn't happen. Despite the fact that it’s dark here, with a woman’s gaze I notice that he is quite tall, a clearly pumped up and trained body is hidden under the uniform, and very lively, attentive, intelligent eyes burn under the baseball cap. They look me up and down and it tickles me, even though I usually want to shut up and run so that Cloud doesn't notice that I've become the object of something and make me feel guilty about it.

- Can I help you? the uniformed man suddenly yells, and his voice sends chills down my spine. The voice is low, rough, with a hoarseness, so unusually thick and penetrating. With such a voice, he would work on the radio - broadcast with erotic overtones.

- No thanks! I habitually twist my lips so that Cloud or his guards do not notice the poor guy next to me, otherwise this Night of Justice will be his last even here, in the most peaceful place in the city.

- See you then! - I hear myself in the back, but I do not dare to turn around. First of all, because this voice is already very pleasant for my receptors, which are strained and filled with strength from its vibrations. And then - due to the fact that the tips of the fingers begin to tingle with premonition. While little understandable, frightening, calling and attracting. Very strange and unusual feeling. In order not to think about it, I quicken my pace as much as possible in high heels and run forward, back to the gym, under Cloud's supervision.

Alex

The room is simply demarcated into an area for receiving guests and waiters, both of which can be distinguished by tuxedos and uniforms. Some women and men are wearing masks, and I understand them very well: on the Night of Justice, they hid in the most guarded hole in the whole city. And if these people were hiding their faces here, I can’t even imagine how they guarded their mortal bodies there, outside the forged gates through which electricity ran.

All the women are in elegant, luxurious, beautiful floor-length evening dresses, and for a second it even seemed to me as if I had become a participant in the filming of some kind of film. Quickly and imperceptibly, I checked to see if my trusty Glock was hanging on my hip, in case there was a sudden gunfight, and turned to the voice of some dude.

Are you a member of the service staff?