Chapter 11 Violet
Violet
This press release is a masterclass in psychological warfare.
I hate everything about it, and yet here I am reading it for the fifth fucking time, thumb scrolling with a fury that threatens to shatter my phone screen.
Each word is a fresh insult– the careful spin, the manufactured sincerity, the outright lies.
According to Alpha’s PR team, I was ‘eager’ to enter the Pairing ceremony and ‘over the moon’ when I was matched with Commander Kane.
There’s even a quote from me– fabricated, obviously– about how lucky I feel to be mated to such a strong, respected pillar of our pack.
I almost want to laugh.
Instead, my stomach lurches with something between rage and physical nausea, curling in on itself.
Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. I honestly can’t remember the last time I slept for real.
Every time I close my eyes, I get trapped in that miserable limbo between rest and wakefulness that leaves me feeling worse than before.
My head pounds. My eyes burn. My body feels so heavy I’ve basically fused with the couch.
All I’ve got energy for is the endless swipe of my thumb and the constant, involuntary curl of my lip as I read.
The worst part about this damn article is how it’s completely scrubbed away my identity.
I’m no longer the ungovernable disaster my mother raised, nor the suspected rebel who was captured and sentenced.
I’ve been repackaged into something more palatable for mass consumption– reduced to nothing more than Commander Kane’s shiny new mate.
I hate how good we look together. How natural it looks for his hand to be curled around my waist, my chest pressed tightly against his.
My eyes are too bright, my smile too effortless.
Meanwhile, Kane’s all predatory intent and ice-veined restraint, dark eyes locked on me with a focus so intense it borders on obscene.
Like the photographer interrupted a private, intimate moment between us rather than staging every pose.
I hate it.
Hate him.
Hate that he hasn’t even bothered to answer my text.
I swipe over to my messages, just to confirm for the tenth time that no response has come through. It hasn’t. The bastard is probably ignoring me on purpose.
So, I fire off another message. Because I can’t fucking help myself.
You alive, or did you choke to death on the lies in this article?
I hit send, then immediately regret it. Now he’ll know how much I’ve been obsessing over this; how I’ve been sitting here thinking about him nonstop. I curl deeper into the couch, covering my face with the throw pillow.
I’m so tired that my bones feel hollow, but the second I close my eyes, that photo burns behind them. Kane’s hands on my body, my lips parted, both of us looking seconds from giving into the heat between us.
Groaning, I drop the pillow and stare up at the ceiling.
My wolf paces inside me, restless and sharp-edged. It’s not hunger– more of a gnawing, bottomless ache that has nothing to do with food and everything to do with the man who refuses to answer my texts. The same one I’ve been shackled to for the rest of my miserable life.
Then, as if I summoned him through sheer spite, there’s a sound at the door. A soft scrape as the lock turns, the hush of careful footsteps crossing the entryway.
My wolf surges forward. Even before he comes into view, I feel it– the bond snapping tight, an invisible tether pulling taut. When Kane emerges at the end of the hallway, the sight of him steals my breath… and not in a good way.
I’m sure I look like hell, but Kane looks like he’s on death’s doorstep.
Dark circles bruise the skin under his eyes, his face sunken and pale.
His hair’s a mess, and not in the sexy, deliberate way– more like he’s forgotten brushes exist. A thick layer of stubble coats his jaw, and his movements are stiff, like he’s running on pure muscle memory.
He comes to a stop, flickering a glance toward the row of empty energy drink cans littering the coffee table.
Evidence of several failed attempts to combat my exhaustion, which did nothing except intensify the tremors in my hands.
He exhales shallowly as his eyes lift to mine, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and leaning a shoulder against the wall.
“Got your message.”
Adrenaline snaps through me. I sit up fast, tossing off the blanket and shoving my phone in his direction, headline blazing on the screen. “Did you know about this?” I demand.
He doesn’t even glance at it. He doesn’t have to. I know he’s seen it– probably approved it himself, hit publish, and was awarded a gold star by his precious Alpha.
“Of course,” he replies evenly, dark eyes pinning me in place.
My mouth drops open with an indignant huff. “What the actual fuck, Kane?”
His brow lifts. “Problem?”
“Yeah, there’s a fucking problem,” I snarl, tossing my phone down on the sofa. “I was told this would be a simple announcement, not some sick manifesto designed to brainwash the pack into believing in the Pairing. Why would you do this?”
“Me?” he scoffs, folding his arms. “You think I want my business spread around the pack like tabloid fodder?”
I narrow my eyes on him, searching for the lie.
“This is what Alpha does,” he mutters, eyes gone cold. “Finds an angle, spins things to his advantage. You didn’t really expect him to put the truth out there, did you?”
“I sure as hell didn’t expect for him to turn this into some kind of Cinderella story for the masses,” I snap, lips twisting in a scowl. “I never signed up to be the damn poster child for the Pairing. What if girls actually believe this bullshit and run to sign up next quarter?”
“Pretty sure that’s the whole point,” he grumbles.
“And you’re just okay with that?” I spit.
He averts his gaze, shrugging.
“See, that’s the difference between you and me,” I huff, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. “You don’t see anything wrong in deceiving people. You actually like being a cog in the machine.”
His eyes flick back to me, something shuttering behind them as he pushes off from the wall and strides in my direction. The closer he gets, the more my wolf loses her damn mind, clawing toward the surface as he lowers himself to rest on the arm of the sofa.
Too close.
Not close enough.
“We all do what we have to,” he grits out.
I look at him– really look, as if I’ll find something worthwhile hidden beneath the hard exterior. Some flicker of actual humanity lurking inside the mindless soldier. But the more I look, the more I realize how run down he seems, like he’s suffering from the same thing I am.
“Are you sick?” I ask quietly.
He crosses his arms, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “You could call it that.”
“So it’s not just me,” I murmur, a strange mix of guilt and vindication swirling in my chest.
His eyes flick to mine, and I swear I see relief flash in them. “Trouble sleeping?”
“Yeah,” I reply dryly. “My wolf’s been torturing me for days.”
Kane stares back at me for a long moment, brow furrowing, his expression twisting with something I can’t quite read.
I break the spell before it can turn sentimental. “I’ll bet it’s the bond,” I say, lifting my chin. “Like some kind of immune rejection. Maybe when it’s forced, it poisons both people from the inside.”
He just grunts in response, shifting his gaze toward the windows.
The silence that follows is oppressive, the air so thick with tension it’s almost hard to breathe. My wolf paces in my skull relentlessly, Kane’s presence fueling her like a battery charger. I’m suddenly buzzing with chaotic energy, unable to sit still for the first time in days.
“Fuck this,” I breathe, shoving to my feet. “I won’t be complicit in this lie. The pack deserves the truth.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Kane warns, bristling.
I let out a sharp, hollow laugh. “Why not? What’s the worst Alpha can do, put me down?”
“Yes,” he deadpans.
“Well maybe that’s preferable to this.” I go to stomp past him, angling for a dramatic exit, but he captures my wrist and reels me in.
“You don’t mean that,” he growls, eyes rimmed gold.
“Maybe I do,” I fire back, wrenching my wrist free of his grip. “It beats being a walking PR stunt for a tyrant.”
Kane glowers at me, jaw ticking, wolf riding close to the surface. Mine shoves forward in response, answering the challenge with an illicit surge of heat that snaps through the air between us.
He’s still perched on the arm of the sofa, but the man’s so damn tall that it puts us at eye level with one another. He tilts his head slowly, considering me for a long moment.
“Are you done now?” he asks, calm to the point of condescension.
That patronizing tone scrapes down my spine and sets my teeth on edge.
“Not even close,” I grit out, closing the last sliver of distance between us and getting right up in his face. “We may be mated, but you don’t own me, Commander Kane. I’ll do what I want, when I want, and if that means shouting from the rooftops that Alpha’s a liar–”
His hands lock around my hips, cutting me off mid-sentence as he yanks me flush against him.
“You won’t,” he growls.
The words aren’t loud. They don’t need to be. His stare pins me in place, so charged that my inner wolf goes feral.
My lips part, but nothing comes out– just a soft hitch of breath as the heat of his grip sears through the thin fabric of my sweats. My thoughts scatter, instinct taking over as my hands land on his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
Not to push him away.
To pull him closer.
My heart slams against my ribs, our breaths tangling in the narrow space between us. He smells like citrus and spice, the scent wrapping around me like a drug as he leans in just enough that the tip of his nose brushes mine. So close that my wolf fucking swoons.
For one suspended breath, I think he’s going to kiss me.
Bite me.
Break me.
And for one terrifying moment, I realize I might actually want him to.