Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Fox
That tiny spark of amusement flickers in Violet’s eyes, and for the first time since she opened the door, I feel like I can breathe again. She’s still angry—rightfully so—but she’s not shutting down. She still wants to fight for this, for us.
I pick up the thread of the story, my voice rougher now, raw from days of silence and nights of regret. “They kept us locked up for weeks—question after question about our connection to the Rosetti pack, pushing us to give them anything. Names, routines, weaknesses. We gave them nothing.”
I swallow. “The only thing I told them… was that I was in foster care with the Rosetti boys.”
Violet’s expression softens, that sharp edge in her eyes easing just slightly. “I didn’t know that,” she murmurs, quiet, hesitant. “That you were in foster care with them.”
I wave it off. It’s not the part of the story that matters right now. “We didn’t get released. Not really. One night we went to sleep in a cell. Next thing we know, we wake up in an abandoned house on the outskirts of town.”
“No phone, no vehicle,” Dare mutters, voice low. “No fucking clue what just happened.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” he adds, flashing Violet a wink, “but we may have stolen a car.”
Violet snorts, a real laugh bubbling up, and the sound settles something frantic in my chest.
But Jex doesn’t laugh. His hands flex against his knees, his whole body vibrating with rage just barely held in check. “They kept us from our mate for a month.” His voice is low and gravel-rough. “They stole that time from us.”
I look at her, and I mean it when I think: I’d kill them all to get that month back.
Violet watches us for a long moment, her lips pressed together, fingers absently trailing over the arm of the chair. Her scent shifts in the air—lemon frosting still sweet, but now touched with something thoughtful, something processing.
We’ve laid it out for her. All the broken pieces.
Now it’s her move.
“So, let me get this straight,” she says at last, unfolding her arms, her voice cool but laced with something sharper.
“You helped the Rosetti pack rescue Fallon and a bunch of other omegas. In return, your employer locked you up, interrogated you for information on how Rosetti operates, and then—somehow—you were just… released ?”
She raises a brow, skepticism curling her words like smoke.
Dare nods, jaw tight. “That’s the gist of it.”
Violet’s eyes flick to me, her smirk slowly returning. “Odette loves action thrillers. You pick up a thing or two.”
It shouldn’t make me smile. But it does.
“What are we missing?” Jex asks sharply, suspicion already catching in his voice.
“Share with the class,” Dare mutters.
I tilt my head, letting the pieces settle in my mind.
“Let’s look at this logically,” I say slowly, spreading my hands.
“Rosetti’s been hitting hold houses across the city—freeing omegas, dismantling their system piece by piece.
Whether we meant to or not, we helped in one of those raids.
But our employer? They didn’t just want to know what Rosetti was doing.
They wanted to know how they were doing it.
Where they’d strike next. What methods did they use? ”
Dare’s eyes widen slightly, the realization catching up.
Violet’s voice is steady, calm in that terrifyingly capable way she has when she knows she’s onto something. “They’re not just investigating Rosetti,” she says. “They’re part of it. The kidnappings. The auctions. The whole damn system.”
Jex lets out a dark breath. “If we hadn’t already quit, we’d be quitting now.”
Her gaze locks onto Dare’s. “So… who exactly did you work for?”
Dare’s expression darkens, regret tightening the edges of his jaw. “That’s the fucked up part, Vi. We worked for the government.”
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
For a second, the room is dead silent.
Then Jex speaks, voice dry. “But why let us go?”
Violet answers before any of us can. “So you’d lead them straight to Rosetti.” Her voice is like ice, sharp and devastating. “Only… you fucked that part up.”
She smirks, and it’s beautiful. Fierce and a little smug and completely hers.
Then she softens, eyes dropping to the space between us.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says quietly.
And just like that, my world tilts back into place—fractured, but not broken. Not anymore.
Violet
May 17th
6:45 P.M
“Odette, please call me back.”
My voice cracks on the last word, and I wince, gripping the phone tighter like that’ll somehow make her pick up. The voicemail timer ticks in mocking silence as I sit parked in my car, the quiet pressing in around me like a weighted blanket I can’t crawl out from under.
“She still isn’t answering,” I whisper into the void, even though I know she won’t hear it.
Henry told me she sent him home. Told him she didn’t need watching anymore. Her mom said she’s still showing up for work and still keeping to her routine. So... she’s alive. Functioning. But functioning isn’t the same as okay.
And if something happened to her—if someone else got to her while I wasn’t paying attention—
I shove the thought down before it can finish forming. I don’t have the strength to deal with that spiral right now. Instead, I swipe over to my contacts and tap Fallon’s name, my eyes locked on my pack’s truck still parked in my driveway.
It’s stupid, but I stare at it like it might give me answers. Like if I look hard enough, the universe will throw me a goddamn bone.
The line picks up after one ring.
“Hey, hot stuff.” Fallon’s voice slides through the speaker, teasing and familiar, cutting through my dread like a blade of sunlight. It tugs a smile out of me before I can stop it.
“Flirting already? You’re not even drunk, and I haven’t fed you.”
“Low standards, remember?” she replies, and I can hear the grin in her voice. “I’m easy.”
I laugh, just once, before the weight settles back over me like a wave pulling tight. I swallow hard, my fingers curling around the steering wheel like I need the grounding.
“Fallon…” I pause. “We need to talk.”
Her tone shifts immediately, all the flirtation gone like a switch flipped.
“What’s going on?”
I close my eyes and drag a hand down my face, fingertips digging into the ache behind my eyes. Everything feels raw—my skin, my heart, my voice. “It’s… complicated,” I admit. “But I’ll give you the short version.”
I lay it out for her. The interrogation. The month of silence. The government connection. The fucked-up web that’s bigger than we ever realized.
“They were only supposed to debrief,” I say softly. “That’s what they told me. Just a check-in, and then they were coming back for me. Instead, they were detained. Cut off. Controlled.”
There’s a long pause on the line.
“They’ll just keep coming,” Fallon says at last, her voice distant and hollow, like she’s staring at something far away and ugly.
“Even if we dismantle another hold house, they’ll rebuild somewhere else.
Because the ones buying those omegas? They’re protected.
Hidden behind the same people claiming to keep us safe. ”
“That’s exactly it,” I murmur, my fingers white-knuckled around the steering wheel. “I thought you needed to know, Fallon. Because whoever’s behind this... they don’t care that we’ve started to unravel it. They’re not going to stop.”
“We need to shut the auctions down. Expose them.” Her voice dips lower, half to herself, like she’s already calculating every move.
“Thanks for telling me,” she says a moment later, heavier now.
“But if you think I’m just going to sit back and let them get away with this, you clearly don’t know me as well as you think, Vi. ”
I snort, the sound a little sharp from the tension still wired through my body. “Oh, I knew you were gonna say that. Just wanted to hear you admit it.”
“Are you coming back to Chicago soon?” I ask, leaning my head against the steering wheel, the phone still pressed tight to my ear.
“As soon as I can. I’ve got a few things to wrap up here, but once I’m done—I’m on the first flight out.”
There’s a pause. And then her voice drops, low and lethal.
“And when I get there? We tear down every last one of those bastards.”
A slight chill prickles over my skin.
“Good,” I say, and this time my voice is solid, the steel starting to return. “Because if they think they can keep doing this and walk away clean... they’re dead wrong.”
I step out of the car and head toward the house, keys jangling in one hand, the other tugging my jacket tighter around my body.
If I didn’t have to leave today, I probably wouldn’t have.
Honestly, I would’ve just stayed curled up in the nest like a gremlin avoiding the world and all its emotional chaos.
But an omega’s gotta eat.
And unfortunately, food doesn’t magically appear in my fridge without a paycheck or summoning spell. (Trust me, I’ve checked.)
So I went to work. I lost myself in the blank canvas, letting the brush drag and swirl and bleed out every ugly thought clouding my head. The frustration. The guilt. The aching confusion that still lingers even though they’re back. Every color screamed louder than I could.
At least my omega seems content now. She practically purrs when I think about them—about their hands, their voices, their heat. The hussy.
I pause just outside the kitchen, leaning against the wall. The low murmur of voices drifts through the hallway, and I recognize Jex’s deep, velvety tone, quieter than usual.
“I just… I want to give her everything she could possibly need.”
The words hit me square in the chest.
My breath catches, a soft ache blooming behind my ribs. There’s no bravado in his voice. No calculated charm. Just raw, aching sincerity. It wraps around something wounded in me and holds tight, refusing to let go.
God, these men might destroy me in an entirely new way.