Chapter Two
Violet
Violet forced herself to keep walking, her boots hitting the pavement with more force than necessary as she left Arlo behind. Every step felt like a battle against the invisible current dragging her backward, pulling her toward the man she should have already forgotten.
Mate! her dolphin said angrily. Go back. Now.
It was furious at her for leaving him behind.
Mate. The word echoed in her head, rattling around in there like a marble in an empty jar. She gritted her teeth, pushing forward through the dimly lit alley, ignoring the way her pulse pounded too fast and erratic.
This wasn’t what she was supposed to be focusing on.
The damn suspect had slipped through her fingers.
She didn’t have time to be thinking about some smug CIA agent with too-sharp teeth that made her shiver with something other than revulsion, and that cocky grin that made her stomach twist in ways it shouldn’t.
Violet exhaled sharply and forced herself to shift gears. The FBI tactical team she’d called in as backup was just ahead, their dark uniforms blending into the shadows near an unmarked black van.
Agent Sloane, a solid, broad-shouldered man looked up as she approached. His eyes were sharp and assessing.
Violet slowed to a stop, squaring her shoulders as she reached him. Violet was not a short woman, but this agent towered above her.
“Report?” he asked.
“The suspect got away,” she said, forcing the words out evenly despite the frustration burning inside her.
Sloane let out a controlled breath, his expression unreadable. “Damn. Any leads?”
“None. He slipped into the alleyways, and I lost him.”
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “We lost him too,” he groused.
He said the words as if losing a suspect was completely foreign concept to him.
Violet sighed. She had lost the suspect, but she should have caught him, hell, would have caught him, if she hadn’t run straight into Arlo Harrison. If she hadn’t felt something that rattled her so hard she’d lost focus entirely.
But she wasn’t about to share that little nugget of information to this man. It was paramount that shifters keep their identity a secret at all costs.
She pushed the thought away and kept her face impassive as Sloane spoke again.
“Alright, we’ll regroup and work with what we have.” He gestured to the other agents, signaling for them to wrap things up.
Violet should have felt relief. Instead, unease coiled in her gut. She should have made them aware of Arlo’s presence on the scene. She had never withheld information before. She wasn’t that kind of agent. She followed protocol. She did things by the book, because the book existed for a reason.
And yet, here she was, lying by omission.
Her dolphin stirred, restless.
Protect Mate. Go back. Find him.
Violet’s jaw tightened. Absolutely not.
He is ours.
She stiffened.
The sheer certainty of her animal’s voice in her mind sent a pulse of heat through her veins, a deep, primal knowing that she refused to acknowledge.
He wasn’t hers.
He was CIA, and worse, he was a distraction. A reckless, unwanted, infuriatingly gorgeous distraction.
Violet exhaled hard, forcing her dolphin back into the recesses of her mind, locking that part of herself away.
She wasn’t some love-drunk teenager being led by instinct.
She had a job to do.
And Arlo Harrison wasn’t part of it.
Violet rolled her shoulders back, drawing in a steady breath as the tactical team began dispersing. She could feel the night’s weight pressing down on her, exhaustion creeping into her limbs even as her mind remained sharp, restless.
Agent Sloane gave her a curt nod as he pulled off his earpiece. “We’ll keep combing the area, see if we can pick up a trail,” he said. “You heading in?”
She hesitated for only a second before giving a firm nod. “Yeah. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”
Sloane studied her for a beat longer than necessary, like he was debating saying something else, but then he just grunted his acknowledgment.
“Good work tonight, Miller,” he said, clapping her lightly on the shoulder before stepping toward one of the black SUVs. “Don’t worry. We’ll get him next time.”
Violet forced a tight smile.
We should have had him this time.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “Next time.”
With that, she turned on her heel and walked toward her car. She felt the weight of the tactical team around her, their movements precise and professional as they spoke quietly to one another. But for the first time in her career, she felt… separate from them. Disconnected.
Like she was keeping a secret too big to ignore.
She shoved the thought away then bleeped open the locks of her car before sliding behind the wheel, barely registering the familiar motions as she started the engine and pulled away from the scene.
Her grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles white as she maneuvered through the quiet streets of Miami.
The city lights cast long streaks of color against the pavement, the distant hum of life still pulsing even at this late hour.
But in the enclosed space of her car, it was just her and the mess inside her head.
Mate.
The word was like an ember, glowing in the pit of her stomach, waiting for the right breath of air to set it ablaze. But she wouldn’t fan it. She couldn’t afford to. There was too much at stake. She had responsibilities that didn’t involve a mate.
It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. She repeated that over and over, but it didn’t stop the memory of his scent from lingering. Didn’t stop the imprint of his voice from lodging itself firmly in her mind.
By the time she pulled into her driveway, the tension in her body had settled into something deeper, something not even exhaustion could smother.
Violet cut the engine and climbed out of the car, rolling her shoulders as she walked up to her building’s main entrance.
She followed the familiar path to her condo’s front door then put her key in the lock.
The warm glow from the living room window spilled under the door and as she let herself inside, she saw Leah, her babysitter, shifting on the couch.
Leah straightened, a sleepy but welcoming smile on her face.
“Hey,” the young woman said, stretching slightly. “How was work?”
Violet forced a smirk, stepping further into the house as she pulled out her wallet. “Oh, you know. The usual.”
Leah snorted. “So, chaotic and mildly dangerous?”
Violet handed her a few bills and smirked. “Something like that.”
Leah took the money with a grin before grabbing her bag.
“Riley was great, as always. She fought me on bedtime again because she wanted to wait up until you got home, but she was so tired she fell asleep here on the couch. I had to carry her in. We watched that mermaid show she’s obsessed with. Again.”
Violet chuckled, already moving toward the hallway. “She’s been on an ocean kick lately.”
Leah grinned. “Don’t I know it! If it’s not mermaids, it’s dolphins and sharks. She’s obsessed!”
Violet’s smirk faltered slightly, but she covered it with a nod. “Thanks for staying late. I appreciate it. Get home safe.”
“I will.”
Leah gave her a small wave before slipping out the door, leaving Violet alone in the quiet room.
She exhaled, finally allowing herself to relax just a fraction as she made her way toward Riley’s room. The soft glow of a nightlight bathed the small space in golden light, casting gentle shadows across the walls.
Her daughter was curled up under her favorite blanket, her tiny form rising and falling with each steady breath.
Violet leaned against the doorframe, a familiar ache pressing against her ribs.
No matter how many times she saw Riley like this—safe, peaceful, home—it never hit her any less.
She swallowed hard and stepped closer, crouching beside the bed as she brushed a stray curl from Riley’s forehead.
“You okay, baby?” she whispered, even though she knew there wouldn’t be an answer.
Riley stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling again.
Violet let out a slow breath, the weight of the night settling heavily on her shoulders.
She had lost so much.
Riley had lost so much.
But they were both here, together.
And that was everything.
Violet sat on the edge of Riley’s bed, the soft sound of her breathing filling the quiet space.
The warmth of the room should have been comforting, should have grounded her in the present.
But as she looked down at the little girl’s peaceful face, memories pulled her backward, dragging her under like a rip current she never saw coming.
It had been an ordinary day.
The kind of day that felt so mundane at the time, so unremarkable, that it made what followed all the more cruel.
She had been at work, buried in paperwork, the kind of tedious administrative nonsense that made her wish she were out in the field instead of trapped in an office. She’d been half-listening to one of her colleagues drone on about some case when her phone rang.
She almost didn’t answer it.
Almost let it go to voicemail, because it was a Saturday, so it would undoubtedly have been her sister, and she’d already told her she was too busy with work to meet up.
“I’ll make it up to you next weekend,” she had promised.
Next weekend.
The thought made her stomach lurch even now, sitting here in the present, because there had been no next weekend.
The call hadn’t come from her sister.
It was from the hospital.
She remembered the words in pieces, her brain struggling to keep up with the weight of them, trying to shove them into some logical space where they made sense.
“Your sister and her husband have been in an accident.”
“We need you to come down to Mercy General right away.”
She hadn’t even asked questions. She had just grabbed her coat and run, nearly colliding with a desk on her way out of the office.
By the time she got there, her hands were shaking so hard she could barely push open the heavy ER doors.
She knew. She just knew.