Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Darius
I can’t stop watching her.
My office has floor-to-ceiling glass walls overlooking the main floor of the Supernatural Affairs Division. Normally, I keep the blinds pulled halfway down for privacy, but today, they’re open. I tell myself it’s to monitor department operations.
It’s a lie. I’m watching Violet.
She sits three rows back from my office, her desk positioned near the window.
Sunlight streams through the glass, catching in her hair and turning it almost golden.
She is bent over her computer, completely absorbed in whatever she’s working on, her fingers flying across the keyboard with surprising speed.
My wolf paces restlessly beneath my skin like the caged animal he is. He wants out. Wants to go to her. Wants to claim what’s ours.
I take a deep breath.
Two days. This is her second day working here, and every minute has been torture.
She sits right there, close enough that I can catch traces of her scent when she walks past my office. Close enough that, if I focus hard enough, I can hear her voice through the soundproof glass when she speaks to colleagues. Close enough that it’s driving me absolutely insane.
But not close enough to touch. Never close enough to touch.
My wolf snarls, frustrated. He doesn’t understand why we’re denying ourselves. Why we’re sitting in this office when our mate is right there, breathing the same air, existing in the same space.
Because she doesn’t know, I remind him savagely. She doesn’t feel it.
She should, though. Even without her wolf fully surfacing, the mate bond shouldn’t only be felt on my end.
But there’s nothing in her eyes. That’s the part that’s been eating at me: the complete lack of recognition.
The way she looks at me with nothing but cold indifference—and sometimes, outright hostility.
Maybe she’s hiding it after overhearing what I said to my father. My jaw clenches at the memory.
“Clumsy.” “Shy.” “Sheltered.” “Can barely function in normal society.”
The words echo in my head like a curse. Every vile thing I said, every cruel observation meant to convince my father that Violet doesn’t belong in this division, in this building, anywhere near me.
She heard all of it.
I saw her face when I opened that door. Saw the way the color drained from her cheeks, the indifference that slid over her expression like a mask. And then, she walked past me like I was nothing, keeping space between us so deliberately, it felt like a slap.
“You don’t like me, right?”
Her question from that night cut me deeper than any blade could.
“I’m not interested in spending any amount of time with you, either.”
I deserved that. Deserved worse, probably.
But what I didn’t deserve was the way she looked at me when I cornered her against my car the next morning. Like I repulsed her. Like my touch made her sick.
“Your smell makes me nauseous,” she told me. The memory causes a hollow ache to spread through my ribs.
But she was lying. I know she was. I saw the way her pupils dilated when I got close. The blush in her cheeks, the slight tremor in her hands. Her body responded to me even though she tried to pretend the opposite.
She said it, though. Twisted her wrist free with a move I didn’t know she possessed and walked away like I mean nothing.
Like we mean nothing.
I force my attention back to the present, to the woman sitting at her desk who looks nothing like the girl I remember.
That girl was shy. Reserved. She kept her head down during pack gatherings, spoke in soft whispers when addressed directly, flinched whenever her mother’s sharp gaze landed on her. She was sweet in a way that made me want to protect her, to shield her from the cruelty of our world.
This woman is different.
Quiet, yes. But there’s steel beneath the silence now. An inner strength that radiates from her even when she’s sitting perfectly still.
I saw it yesterday morning.
I was heading down for coffee when I heard voices raised in the kitchen. Ordinarily, I’d ignore it, but something made me pause outside the door.
It was Violet, her tone cold and controlled. “Say it again. To my face this time.”
Then, the sound of an object clattering to the floor, followed by a gasp of pain.
I stepped closer and peered through the crack in the door just in time to see Violet twist the head cook’s arm. The older woman’s face went pale, her eyes wide with shock and pain.
“Since you have so many opinions, let’s go discuss them in front of the Alpha.”
The ice in her voice sent a shiver down my spine. This wasn’t the timid girl who used to apologize for existing. This was someone who knew exactly what she was doing and didn’t hesitate to do it.
I watched her maintain that joint lock without flinching, forcing the cook toward the door while James scrambled to intervene. I watched Violet refuse to back down even when Susan started crying, even when she begged.
“I may be weak, but I’m not going to let anyone walk all over me.”
She released the cook only after making her point crystal clear. Then, she asked for breakfast as if nothing had happened, her tone perfectly calm.
I’d barely managed to step back before she walked out of the kitchen and nearly crashed into me.
The look in her eyes when she saw me standing there told me I was just another obstacle in her path. Another person she had to navigate around.
“I don’t remember you being this person.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“And? Did you prefer me when I cried and whimpered?”
That bitter smile. That cutting retort. Every word was designed to push me away, to maintain the distance she’d already established between us.
I can’t reconcile this woman with the girl I knew. Can’t match this quiet strength with the shy teenager who used to light up whenever I treated her nicely.
A slight movement pulls me from my thoughts.
Violet is talking to Sarah, one of the senior analysts. Sarah hands her a stack of files, then gestures to something on her computer screen. Violet nods and asks a question I can’t hear from here. Sarah responds, and Violet makes a note on her pad.
She’s picking things up quickly. Altogether too quickly for someone who supposedly has no experience in this field.
On my laptop, I tap a few keys, and then I observe as Violet pulls up a territorial dispute file, cross-references it with three different alliance agreements, and pinpoints the exact clause that resolves the conflict. It takes her four minutes. It would’ve taken most analysts an hour.
My ribs constrict with approval. Satisfaction. The pride of watching my mate excel.
I expected her to struggle. Thought I would have to step in and help her navigate the complexities of supernatural politics and corporate procedures. Predicted that she would need me, even if she didn’t want me.
But she doesn’t. She’s smart. Clever in ways I hadn’t anticipated. It has only been two days, and she has already found her footing, already proven she belongs in this division despite what I told my father. Despite what I told myself.
Another movement near her desk catches my attention. Rachel from the alliance coordination team is approaching her, a smug expression on her face. Behind her, I can see two of the other women from her cluster watching, not even trying to suppress the smirks on their faces.
They’ve been testing her all day. This morning it was filing old alliance documents in the archives.
Before lunch, copying and collating reports for the entire team.
And twice already today, coffee runs. Things that have nothing to do with her actual job description.
Menial tasks meant to establish a hierarchy.
They can sense it: the weakness of Violet’s wolf. The lack of dominant presence that should mark her as pack. And they’re pushing boundaries, seeing how far they can go.
I force myself to stay seated. Not to interfere. She made it clear she doesn’t want my help, doesn’t want anything from me. Besides, she handled the cook. She can handle this.
Rachel leans against Violet’s desk. Whatever she says makes Violet’s hands go still on her keyboard for just a moment.
Then, she nods. Her expression remains perfectly neutral, giving nothing away. She stands, her movements controlled and deliberate. Picks up not just her phone but her wallet from her desk.
My hands curl into fists.
Third time today. And they’re making her pay for it again. Making her not only get but pay for their goddamn coffee.
Violet moves toward the elevators, and that’s when I see it. Now that her back is to Rachel and the smirking women, her face shows what she’s really feeling. Not anger. Not the cold fury I saw in the kitchen.
Exhaustion. A deep, bone-weary resignation. Like she has fought this battle a thousand times and knows exactly how it ends. Like she has already accepted that this is simply how things are, how they’ll always be.
My breath catches. I feel a sharp pain in my chest at that look on her face.
I’m on my feet before I can think better of it, shoving back from my desk hard enough that my chair hits the wall. I stride to the door and push through just as Violet passes by.
Rachel looks up, and I see the exact moment she spots me. Her expression shifts from smugness to predatory interest in a heartbeat. She immediately hurries over with that walk she thinks is seductive.
“Darius,” she purrs, reaching out to touch my arm.
Her fingers trail up my bicep as she leans in, her voice dropping to what she probably means to be an alluring tone.
“I’ve been meaning to catch you. There’s a clause in the Ravenhood contract that needs your signature, and I thought maybe we could go over it together?
” Her hand slides higher, squeezing slightly. “Privately?”