Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Violet
Perfect.
I’ve been timing it carefully all week. Dinner at the house ends around eight.
By nine-thirty, my mother and Alaric have usually retired to their private wing or the study.
By ten, the halls are quiet enough that I can slip in unnoticed, grab something from the kitchen if I’m lucky, and disappear to my room.
I grab my bag and head for the elevator, my heels clicking against the polished floor. The building feels different this late. Hollow, almost peaceful. No Rachel watching me with those calculating eyes. No whispers following me down the hallways. Just silence.
The parking garage is nearly empty. My rental car sits where I left it this morning, under a flickering light that makes shadows dance across the concrete. I unlock it and slide behind the wheel, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat.
My stomach growls. I ignore it.
Breakfast at my desk, lunch if I remember, dinner skipped entirely. It’s easier this way. Easier than sitting at that massive dining table with Alaric making small talk and my mother watching me with her sharp, assessing eyes.
Easier than risking another encounter with Darius.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel at the thought of him.
Since the incident in the corridor, I’ve been a mess. I can still feel his hands on my wrists, still smell the cedar and smoke that always clings to him, still remember the way his eyes flashed gold when I tried to fight back.
“Tell Julian not to touch you again.”
Heat pools low in my stomach at the memory, unwelcome and confusing. I shove it away and start the car.
The drive takes twenty minutes at this hour. Less traffic. Fewer people to navigate around. The exhaustion sitting heavy in my bones makes even the thought of stopping at a store feel insurmountable.
The guards at the gate wave me through without comment. They’ve learned not to question my late arrivals.
I park in the circular driveway and gather my things, moving slowly. My body feels disconnected. The medication I took this morning is wearing off, leaving that familiar queasy feeling in its wake.
The front door is unlocked. I slip off my heels as soon as I’m inside, not wanting to make noise on the marble floor of the foyer. The house is dark except for a soft glow coming from the living room. Probably James, making his final rounds before bed.
I move toward the stairs, ready to retreat to my room and collapse.
A lamp clicks on. I freeze.
My mother is sitting in one of the high-backed chairs facing the staircase, still dressed from dinner in a sleek, black dress and pearls around her neck. Her hands rest on the armrests, fingers drumming a slow rhythm. Waiting.
My stomach drops.
“Violet.” Her voice is cool. Measured. “Come here.”
I don’t move. “I’m tired. I need to—”
“I said, come here.”
The command makes my jaw clench, but I cross the room until I’m standing a few feet away from her chair. Close enough that I can see the hard glint in her eyes. Far enough that she can’t reach me without standing.
“Sit.”
“I’d rather not.”
Her fingers stop drumming. “Sit down, Violet.”
“I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”
She stands in one fluid motion, and I resist the urge to step back. She’s taller than me. Has always used her height to intimidate.
“You’ve changed,” she says, her voice turning harsh.
A bitter laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”
“Don’t be smart with me.”
I meet her gaze, refusing to look away. “What did you expect? That I’d come back and hide behind your skirts? Play the good little stepdaughter so you could parade me around and prove you’re a devoted mother?”
Color floods her cheeks. “Watch your tone.”
“Why? So you can keep playing happy family? Pretend you didn’t ship me off to another country the moment I became inconvenient?”
Her hand moves so fast I barely register it before the crack echoes through the room.
My head snaps to the side, cheek stinging. Heat blooms across my skin where her palm connected.
I straighten slowly, turning back to face her. My hand comes up to touch my burning cheek, but I don’t let the tears gathering in my eyes fall.
“I didn’t raise you to be so disrespectful,” she hisses.
“You didn’t raise me at all.” The words taste like acid. “I’ve always been a stain from your past. Something to hide. Something to be ashamed of.” I lean forward slightly, my voice dropping. “I know you wished I’d died alongside Dad and Trevor.”
The color drains from her face. Then, her eyes flash with pure rage, and her hand shoots up again, claws extending. “I told you never to mention them again!”
The second slap is harder. Her claws rake across my cheek, and I feel skin tear. Blood runs hot and wet down my jaw.
I clutch my face, glaring at her through the pain. “Why? Why can’t I mention the only two people who ever cared about me?”
“You will not speak of them. Not in this house. Not ever.”
“They’re all I have left!” My voice breaks despite my best efforts to stay strong. “They’re the only family who ever loved me!”
She advances on me, and I step back instinctively until my shoulders hit the wall.
“You have a family,” she snaps, ice-cold. “Alaric has given you a home. Given us both a home. And you repay him by acting like an ungrateful child.”
“He’s not my father,” I spit back.
Her hand lifts again, trembling with fury.
I straighten my spine. “Go ahead. Beat me black and blue if you want. It doesn’t change the fact that you replaced my father and my brother, and you’ve despised that I survived when they didn’t.”
“How dare you…” Her voice shakes with rage.
“It was easy for you, wasn’t it? Trading them in for a new husband and son. Playing the devoted wife to an alpha. But I’ve never forgotten them. And I never will.”
Her hand comes down once more, claws fully extended. They dig into my cheek, tearing deeper. The pain is sharp and immediate, but I don’t shrink back. Don’t cower.
I just stare at her through the blood running down my face.
She pulls back, breathing hard, her eyes blazing. Then, her expression shifts, becoming cold. Calculated.
“I told you to keep a low profile,” she says, her voice dropping to a dangerous level. “To make yourself invisible. But you couldn’t even do that, could you?”
My chest tightens. “What are you talking about?”
“Tomorrow, you will tell Alaric that you no longer wish to work in the Supernatural Affairs Division.” Her words are clipped. Final. “You will request a transfer to another department. Or better yet, you’ll quit entirely.”
A sharp and unexpected spasm of pain shoots through my chest at her words. I press a hand to my ribs, confused by the intensity of it.
“No.”
“This is not a discussion.” She steps closer, looming over me. “You will stay away from Darius.”
The pain intensifies, spreading through my chest like fire. I don’t understand why my body is reacting this way when I don’t even like him. When he has made it clear what he thinks of me.
“Why?” The word comes out bitter. Angry. “Are you worried I’ll taint your precious stepson with my weak wolf?”
She glares at me, violence in her eyes.
I stand up straight, glaring at her despite the blood running down my face. “If you want me to quit, then you tell your husband. I never wanted to come back here in the first place. You forced me.” My voice rises, trembling with fury. “I won’t be your scapegoat.”
“Violet!” Her face contorts with rage. She raises her hand yet again, claws fully extended.
But she never gets the chance to land the blow. Fingers wrap around her wrist, stopping her mid-swing.
Darius.
He appears from the darkened hallway like a shadow given form, his grip forcing my mother’s arm down to her side. His eyes blaze gold, locked on her face.
“What the hell is going on?”
My mother goes rigid. She tries to jerk her wrist free, but he doesn’t let go. “What are you doing here?”
“I came by for some pack business.” His voice is deadly calm, but I can see the muscle ticking in his jaw. His eyes flick to me, taking in the blood, and a dark and furious look crosses his face. “I asked you, what is going on.”
“It’s none of your business.” My mother’s voice turns cold. Dismissive. “A small matter between mother and daughter.”
He twists her wrist, and I see her wince. “Doesn’t look like a small matter to me.”
They stare at each other, locked in a silent battle of will. The air crackles with tension.
Finally, Darius speaks, his voice dropping to a command that makes me obey automatically. “Violet. Go to your room.”
I don’t hesitate. I push off the wall and move toward the stairs, my legs shaking with adrenaline. I can feel both of them watching me as I climb, can hear Darius snarling at my mother, but I don’t look back. I just need to get out of there.
My door clicks shut behind me, and I lean against it, sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor. My chest heaves with ragged breaths that won’t slow down. My hands are trembling. The pain in my cheek throbs in time with my heartbeat.
But it’s the strange ache in my chest that confuses me. From that spasm of pain when my mother told me to stay away from Darius. My body’s reaction made no sense. I don’t even like him. He said I don’t belong.
So, why does the thought of never seeing him again make my chest feel like it’s caving in?
After a moment, I push myself up to a standing position and move to the full-length mirror in the corner.
The reflection staring back at me looks haunted. Blood has dried in streaks down my jaw and neck. Marking my left cheek are four parallel scratches, angry and red, still seeping slightly.
I touch them gently and wince.
I head into the bathroom, flicking on the harsh overhead light. The shower calls to me. I can smell the office on my skin, feel the day’s exhaustion clinging to every inch of my body.