Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Violet
My hand is raised, poised to knock on the heavy oak door of Alaric’s office, when I hear Darius’s voice. It cuts through the wood, sharp and venomous.
“I don’t have time to babysit a woman who can barely function in normal society.”
I freeze. My hand hovers in the air, fingers curled but motionless.
His voice continues, muffled but clear enough. Each word lands like a physical blow. “Clumsy…Shy…Sheltered.”
My hand falls to my side, limp.
The cold starts in my fingertips, spreading up my arms like ice water through my veins. I should walk away. Turn around and go back to my room. But my feet won’t move. I’m rooted to the spot, frozen, as the boy I once admired tears me apart.
A lump forms in my throat.
I remember the rare but genuine smile he used to give me. How he’d ruffle my hair when passing me in the hallway. The time he helped me carry my books when I’d gotten sick during a pack gathering and needed to leave early. Small kindnesses that meant everything to a lonely girl who had no one else.
I thought he was different. Kind. Safe.
Alaric’s voice rumbles in response, but Darius cuts him off. The words “second-in-command” and “babysitter” pierce the door with crystal clarity.
The numbness spreads to my chest now, wrapping around my ribs like a vise. There’s an ache building there, deep and strange, like something is trying to claw its way to the surface.
I push it down, deep down where it can’t interfere. Where it can’t make this worse.
I’m here because Alaric asked me to meet him after dinner. I had no idea he intended for me to work at pack headquarters. I certainly didn’t know I’d be working under Darius. Under someone who apparently can’t stand the sight of me.
“Fine.” Darius’s voice cuts through again, sharp and final. “I’ll bring her to work tomorrow.”
My stomach twists.
I hear him approaching the door from the other side. I should move. Should run. But that same paralysis keeps me locked in place.
The door swings open.
Darius stops dead when he sees me. His eyes go wide, shock flooding his features. Then, guilt: raw and unmistakable. His mouth opens slightly, like he wants to say something, but no words come out.
I look past him to Alaric, who is seated behind his desk. The Alpha’s eyes meet mine before they slowly close, regret etched into every line of his face.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” I say quietly. My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. “You asked me to come see you in your study, Father.”
Alaric’s jaw tightens. “I forgot I’d asked you to come.”
A bitter smile tugs at my lips. “I figured.”
The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating. Darius hasn’t moved from the doorway. His eyes are locked on me, something unreadable flickering in their depths.
An inexplicable urge rises in my chest to move closer to him. I’m confused. Why is my body reacting this way after what I just heard? Why don’t I understand what every cell of mine is trying to tell me?
I crush the feeling ruthlessly. Squash it like a bug under my heel. Whatever this bizarre pull is, it doesn’t matter. Darius has made his feelings crystal clear.
I’ve had years of practice hiding what I feel. Smiling when my mother’s hand would connect with my face. Nodding obediently as she stripped away pieces of who I am. This is no different. Just another pain to bury.
“May I come in?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral. Professional.
“Yes,” Alaric says. “Of course.”
I move forward. Darius is still blocking most of the doorway, and I make sure not to brush against him as I slip past. I angle my body carefully, leaving inches between us, as if he is contaminated.
My chest tightens as I pass him. That instinct I don’t recognize pulls me back toward him even as I force myself forward.
He notices the space I’m maintaining. I can feel his eyes tracking every deliberate inch.
Good. Let him see exactly how much I want to avoid him, too.
I stop in front of Alaric’s desk, hands clasped loosely in front of me. My mother taught me this posture years ago, demure, unthreatening, perfectly compliant. “What did you want to discuss with me?”
Alaric’s brow furrows. He glances at his son, who is still standing in the doorway, then back to me. “Ignore what Darius was saying. He’s being foolish.”
I meet the Alpha’s eyes steadily. “It’s fine.”
“Violet—”
“I’m used to being looked down upon.” The words come easily, smoothly, like I’ve said them a thousand times before. Because I have. To myself. In mirrors. In empty rooms where no one can hear the way my voice cracks. “Darius is just one of many. I won’t get my feelings hurt.”
The lie tastes like ash, but my face remains perfectly calm. Perfectly composed.
Alaric’s expression tightens. He opens his mouth, then closes it, clearly unsettled by my reaction. Or lack thereof.
Inside, I’m screaming. Inside, I’m shattering into a thousand pieces. But I’ve learned to lock that away, to build walls so high and so thick that nothing gets through.
Not even this.
“You’ll be working under Darius starting tomorrow,” Alaric says finally, his voice cautious. “He’ll take you to headquarters. Show you around.”
“I understand.”
“Violet…” He trails off.
“Is there anything else?” I keep my tone polite. Detached.
The Alpha stares at me for a long moment, and I can see him struggling with what to say. Probably trying to figure out if I’m genuinely not bothered or if I’m about to break down. “Darius will mentor you. Help you adjust.”
I give him a short, efficient nod.
He waits, clearly expecting me to say more. To argue. To show some sort of emotion.
I don’t give him the satisfaction.
Finally, he sighs. “Go rest. It’s been a long day.”
“Thank you for the opportunity,” I say quietly. Then, I turn and head toward the door.
I don’t look at Darius. Don’t acknowledge his presence as I move past him into the hallway. I can feel his eyes burning into my back, but I keep walking, my stride measured and steady.
I make it three steps past the doorway before his hand closes around my arm.
He yanks me backward, spinning me around. My back slams into the wall, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. His hand shoots up, fingers gripping my jaw and forcing my face up to meet his eyes.
“What are you playing at?” His voice is low, dangerous. His eyes flash with gold in the dim light of the hallway. “Why are you pretending?”
Heat explodes where his skin meets mine. It’s not just warmth—it’s fire, spreading from the point of contact and racing through my veins like liquid lightning. My breath catches. Every nerve ending lights up, aching for something I don’t understand.
Wild desperation surges through me, clawing at my chest. A feeling so foreign and overwhelming, I don’t know what to do with it. Every instinct I didn’t know I had is shrieking at me to lean into him, to press closer, to give in to this insane pull that makes no sense.
I shove it all down. Lock it away with brutal force.
Then, I plant my hands against his chest and push.
He moves back easily, like he was expecting it. Like he let me push him.
His eyes track my movement, and an odd look flickers across his face. Pain? Anger? I can’t tell, and I don’t care.
I take a step toward him, closing the distance he just created. My heart is pounding so hard, I’m sure he can hear it, but I keep my expression cold. Hard. “You don’t like me, right?”
His eyes narrow.
I swallow the pain splintering through my chest like shards of glass and force the words out.
“I’m not the same person anymore. I’m not the girl who let everyone push her around.
You can’t stand me? That’s fine. I’ll stay out of your way.
I’m not interested in spending any amount of time with you, either. ”
There’s a strange flash in his eyes, but I’m too raw, too broken to try to decipher it.
“You don’t have to drive me to the office tomorrow,” I continue, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands. “I’ll find my own way. And if you don’t want to show me around, ask somebody else to do it.”
I take a step back. Then another.
He doesn’t move. Just stands there, watching me with those dark eyes that flash gold every few seconds, his jaw clenched tight.
I turn and walk away. My legs feel like they may give out, but I force them to move. One foot in front of the other.
Don’t run. Don’t cry. Don’t let him see.
The hallway stretches endlessly. Every step takes monumental effort. My breathing is too shallow, too quick. I can’t seem to get enough air into my lungs.
There’s a howling inside my chest. Not quite a sound, more like a feeling of grief so deep, it has its own voice. It’s unfamiliar and terrifying, and I don’t understand where it’s coming from or why it hurts so much.
I reach my bedroom door, and my hands shake as I turn the handle.
Inside. Just get inside.
I slip through the door and close it behind me, my back pressing against the wood. For a moment, I just stand there, staring at the room that doesn’t feel like mine.
Then, my knees buckle.
I slide down the door, my body crumpling until I’m sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest. The first sob rips from my throat before I even know it’s going to happen.
I stuff my fist into my mouth, biting down hard enough to taste blood.
The tears come anyway.
They pour down my cheeks in hot streams, and I can’t stop them. Can’t control the way my body shakes with each ragged breath. My chest feels like it’s caving in, like something vital has been carved out and I’m bleeding internally, where no one can see.
I’ve been insulted before. Called weak, useless, a burden. I’ve survived my mother’s cruelty, the pack’s disdain, years of isolation. I’ve built walls specifically to protect myself from moments like this.
But hearing Darius say those things…
It shouldn’t matter. He’s nothing to me. Just another person who thinks I’m worthless.