Chapter 13 Violet
Violet
I climb into the passenger seat of Charlotte’s car just after midnight, slamming the door behind me a little harder than necessary.
Not for dramatic effect– though I’m not above that– but because the ever-present tension I just left behind in that apartment has me wound so tight my teeth ache.
I need the jolt, the vibration in my bones.
Physical force feels like the only way to knock some of it loose.
The leather seat creaks beneath me as I drop into it, the car warm and faintly scented with vanilla air freshener. My pulse is racing like I’ve sprinted down twenty flights of stairs rather than riding the elevator and walking calmly out the front door like a normal person.
“Well, look who’s not dead,” Char remarks, flashing me a wide grin as she leans back against the headrest.
“I got better,” I reply, slumping down and dragging a hand through my hair. My gaze flicks toward the glass doors of the Tower nervously, but there’s nobody in sight.
Not that I expected Kane to follow me. He’s been shut in his bedroom all night, his presence a heavy, maddening thing I swear I could feel through the walls. Still, old instincts die hard– and where we’re headed, we definitely don’t want an enforcer tagging along.
Charlotte tilts her head and studies me under the soft dashboard lights, her expression equal parts relief and suspicion. “You don’t look sick,” she says slowly, narrowing her eyes. “Like, at all. Are you high right now or something?”
“Wouldn’t that be a plot twist,” I snort, rolling my eyes. “No. I just finally got some actual sleep.”
She flips on her blinker even though the street’s empty. “Well, thank god for that,” she breathes, pulling away from the curb. “Was it the melatonin gummies? I told you those things are a game changer.”
“Never wound up getting them,” I mumble, watching the Tower shrink in the rearview. “Apparently all I needed was to share a bed with my mate.”
The words hang there for half a second before they fully register, then Char chokes on a gasp, swerving dangerously close to a parked car before jerking the wheel back in line.
“I knew it!” she screeches, slapping my arm with her free hand. “Didn’t I tell you it was only a matter of time before your stubborn ass caved to temptation?”
“Ow, Char!”
She ignores me completely, too busy vibrating with excitement.
“I mean, not that I blame you,” she continues, eyes bright with vindication.
“He’s hot as fuck. And all that growly, dominant energy?
Yes please.” She fans herself dramatically to drive that point home, swerving again.
“So what happened? I need details, bitch. Don’t leave me hanging. ”
Char has been my anchor in all the chaos since the Pairing.
She’s my constant, my safe place, the one who lets me rant into the phone for hours without trying to fix me.
She’s heard every ugly thought, every fear, and every spike of resentment and confusion.
And right now, she’s so damn giddy I almost hate to disappoint her.
Almost.
“Oh calm down,” I scoff, waving her off. “Nothing happened.”
She shoots me a look that says she doesn’t believe me for a second. “Uh-huh.”
“We just slept,” I add firmly. “That’s it.”
Her brow arches dubiously. “You mean to tell me that with all the sexual tension and mutual hate brewing between you two, you didn’t even touch?”
I shrug, turning my face back toward the window.
“Believe me,” I say dryly, “there’s nothing less sexy than sleep deprivation-induced psychosis.
” I rub at my temple, already feeling a headache starting to bloom.
“Besides, Kane’s the type who’d rather waterboard himself than give into a biological impulse. ”
“I dunno, Vi,” she clucks, voice lifting into that teasing register she uses when she thinks she’s onto something. “I saw the photos in the press release. If looks could fuck, you’d be pregnant with triplets.”
I snort, swatting at her with the back of a hand.
“First of all, ew. Second, the only thing getting knocked up in that picture is Alpha’s ego for a PR stunt well done.
” I shift in my seat, the leather creaking beneath me.
“And third, neither of us actually wanted to sleep in the same bed. He even wolfed out so he wouldn’t have to consciously lay next to me. ”
Her eyes gleam with mischief. “Or because he didn’t want to be tempted laying next to your fine ass,” she counters, wagging her brows.
I roll my eyes so hard it almost hurts, letting my head flop back against the headrest. “Either way, it’s fine by me. It was like curling up with a warm, fuzzy blanket.” I close my eyes briefly, the memory of steady warmth and deep, dreamless sleep still clinging to me. “I slept like a baby.”
“Well, good,” she says, nodding decisively. “You’re gonna need your energy for tonight.”
I just grunt in response, the conversation lapsing into silence as we weave through downtown traffic.
It’s late enough that most sane people are already in bed, which means we only pass the occasional cab or food delivery vehicle idling at a curb.
The city looks cleaner at this hour, the usual grime and chaos tucked neatly into the shadows.
The farther we go, the quieter it gets.
“So,” Charlotte says after a while, glancing over at me. “How are you, really? You feeling okay?”
I exhale a slow breath. “Define okay.”
She studies me under the glow of passing streetlights, her expression turning serious. “I mean… you seem normal. Not weird or twitchy like you’ve been lately.” A pause. “It’s good.”
“It’s temporary,” I warn. “The second I stop getting sleep, I’ll be back to my regularly scheduled breakdown.”
“Then just keep sleeping with Kane,” she says, like it’s the most obvious solution in the world.
“Yeah, we’ll see how that works out,” I mutter, watching a darkened block slide past. “I feel like I’m going crazy being stuck in close quarters with a guy who’s basically a robot.”
She grins. “Worth it if the guy looks like him. Sacrifices have to be made.”
I huff a laugh, but my fingers curl tighter in my lap, nerves buzzing faintly beneath my skin as Char signals and turns down a narrower street. The buildings crowd closer here, brick and concrete pressing in.
Almost there.
“Speaking of sacrifices,” Char says lightly, a sly note creeping into her voice. “Have you considered how you could use this pairing to your advantage?”
I shoot her a look.
“I’m just saying,” she presses. “It could be useful to the resistance…”
“What, you want me to spy on him?” I scoff sarcastically.
The look she gives me tells me she isn’t joking. “Not spy, exactly,” she replies slowly. “But, like, if you overhear something. You’re inside now, Vi. That kind of access doesn’t come around often. Anything could help the cause.”
“The cause,” I repeat dryly, the words tasting sour on my tongue.
“Just saying,” she adds, softer. “Could be a game changer.”
I turn my face toward the window, jaw tightening as the city blurs past. “No thanks. The last time I got involved with the ‘cause’, I ended up sentenced to a life of forced mating and smiling for cameras like a fucking mascot.” I exhale through my nose.
“I won’t be hopping on the rebel train again anytime soon. ”
She winces, guilt flickering across her features. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”
“It is what it is,” I mutter. “But I’ll stick to rebelling in my own way from now on.” I glance over at her, the corner of my mouth tipping up. “Like tonight.”
Her lips spread into a grin, sharp and knowing. “Hell yeah, babe. Tonight’s gonna be legendary.”
We fall quiet again as the city shifts around us.
The farther we get from downtown, the uglier it becomes.
Bright lights give way to flickering streetlamps, cracked sidewalks, and boarded-up storefronts with faded signage.
This part of the city exists in a kind of permanent dusk– never fully asleep, never quite alive.
Char slows as she turns onto a one-way street a few blocks from our destination. “Keep an eye out for spots,” she murmurs.
I lean forward in my seat, scanning the curb. Cars are wedged in tight, bumper to bumper, mirrors folded in. Parking’s always a nightmare in the city, but out here on the fringes, it’s a full-contact sport.
“There,” I breathe, pointing to a narrow gap up ahead. “Think you can fit?”
“That’s what she said,” she snorts as she hits the brakes.
I roll my eyes, unfastening my seatbelt while she works the wheel, easing in inch by painstaking inch. It takes some maneuvering and a little muttered swearing, but she gets the car into the spot without kissing either bumper.
We climb out onto the sidewalk, the night air heavy and thick with the scent of an impending storm. I tug my jacket tighter around me as we start toward the block ahead, my pulse ticking faster with every step.
Just anticipation. Routine nerves. Nothing more.
Eclipse nightclub looms two blocks up, its windows blacked out, the kind of place that pretends not to exist unless you already know better.
It’s shifter-owned, but humans are welcome since their money spends the same.
A line wraps around the building– girls in dresses so tight they may as well be painted on, men posturing and preening while trying way too hard to look cool.
A bouncer is positioned at the entrance behind a velvet rope, looking both intimidating as hell and bored out of his skull.
We bypass the line and walk straight up to him, his boredom evaporating as recognition sparks in his eyes. “Ladies,” he greets, already unclipping the rope. “Looking gorgeous tonight, as always. Go on in.”
Char beams him a smile as we slide past, ignoring the muttered curses and dirty looks burning into our backs.
These people have no idea why we’re being waved through while they’re stuck waiting.
They don’t even know shifters exist at all.
And I can’t help but savor the small, private thrill of being on the inside of Chicago’s best-kept secret.
The interior of the club is an immediate sensory overload. Strobe lights slice through the haze, bodies grind on the dance floor, sweat and pheromones saturate the air. Music shakes the floorboards and the inside of my chest, a bass-heavy thump that pulses in time with my heartbeat.
Charlotte makes a beeline for the bar, shouldering her way through the masses to order us each a shot. The bartender– a guy with tattoos blazing up his neck and the shoulders of a pro linebacker– pours them with a heavy hand.
“You working or playing tonight?” he asks me, voice low and smile wicked.
I smirk back at him. “Bit of both.”
“Atta girl,” he chuckles, sliding the glass toward me with a wink. “I’ll be down to watch.”
I salute him with the shot and toss it back, welcoming the burn as the tequila scorches a line down my throat. Char does the same, then jerks her chin toward me. “Another?”
“I’m good,” I say, rolling the tension out of my neck. One is plenty. Anything more would dull the edge, and I can’t afford that. Not tonight.
We don’t linger. The excitement isn’t up here with the club kids and spilled drinks, anyways. The real draw is buried beneath all this noise, accessible only to pack members through a door at the back. The bouncer posted there sizes us up as we approach, then lets us through without a word.
The hallway beyond is narrow and covered in a decade’s worth of graffiti. The door at the end has no handle, just a little window with a metal grate over it. Char knocks, and a set of eyes appear behind it, assessing us. Then the door swings open.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite bit of mischief,” the bouncer waiting on the other side says with a chuckle, grinning as Charlotte steps into his arms.
“Missed you, Mack,” she giggles.
He squeezes her longer than necessary before letting go, then turns his attention to me, giving a low whistle. “You look ready to kill tonight, Violet.”
“Always am,” I reply, letting him hook me into a hug with one beefy arm.
“Go on down, then,” he says gruffly, moving aside and gesturing to the stairwell.
Char blows him a kiss, then links her arm with mine, the two of us starting forward.
The air changes the second we descend. Up top, it’s club chaos and manufactured fun. Down here, it’s something dark and primal, pulsing with raw energy.
The room is all cinderblock and rusted metal, fluorescent lights flickering overhead. A tight crowd presses in, faces flushed, eyes wild. No dance floor, no DJ. Just the ring at the center.
Waiting.
Cheers ripple as we push through the mass of bodies, recognition spreading fast amongst the regulars who know what’s coming. Anticipation crackles, thick enough to taste.
“You ready?” Char asks, turning toward me.
I shove a hand into my pocket, pull out a wad of cash, and slap it into hers. “I need to hit something,” I say. “Might as well get paid for it.”
She laughs, already peeling away toward the betting booth. “Never change, Vi!” she calls back to me.
I head for the locker room, the weight of a hundred hungry eyes following my every step. Mack wasn’t wrong– everyone here is expecting a show.
Because it’s fight night, and I’m the main event.