Chapter 20 #2
“You were, though. It’s my own fault for not understanding my heart soon enough.” I rub a hand down my face. “To be with Violet, I would have had to give up everything I knew. That wasn’t easy to accept. I kept making excuses, telling myself I needed more time. And I hurt her in the process.”
“You’ll fix it,” Ethan says. “Get some sleep. You sound like hell.”
I end the call, but sleep doesn’t come. I spend the night pacing the hotel room, trying her number every hour.
Every call goes straight to voicemail.
I need to tell her. Make her understand that I chose her the minute I decided to get involved in her life.
The second I decided to protect her from Ryker so publicly and endure the inevitable punishment from my father.
The moment I took her to bed. I chose her, and some part of me always knew I would.
I was just too afraid to admit it. Too caught up in trying to have everything, in trying to keep the pack and my father happy while also keeping her.
But when I find her, I’ll tell her. She is everything, and the pack can go to hell if they don’t like it.
By dawn, I’ve left a dozen messages, my voice progressing from desperate to angry to broken and back again.
She doesn’t respond to any of them.
My phone buzzes. I glance down at a text from Ethan.
She wasn’t on any of the late flights. Checked with all the airlines. No Violet Moonvale on the manifests.
My stomach drops. Where the hell did she go?
Me: Try her apartment. She didn’t bring her suitcase back with her, so if you were watching the baggage claim area, she may have slipped past you and gone straight home.
Ethan: On it.
About an hour later, my phone buzzes again. I glance down quickly.
Ethan: She’s home. Lights are on. I can see movement through the windows.
Relief crashes through me so hard, I collapse onto the bed. She’s there. Still in Moonvale. I haven’t lost her yet.
I shove the phone back in my pocket and finish packing, some of the tension easing from my shoulders.
The Coalition building towers over downtown Miami, the glass and steel reflecting the afternoon sun. I stride through the main entrance just before two p.m., my wolf still snarling beneath my skin. Every step feels wrong, like I’m tearing myself in half.
But this is important pack business. Just for a few hours. I can manage a few hours here, and then, I’ll fix everything else.
I have to.
The conference room sits on the top floor, with panoramic windows overlooking Biscayne Bay.
Five alphas wait around the massive oak table, their power filling the space like static electricity before a storm.
Two of my father’s supporters sit on one side with Jeddian, their expressions grim and determined.
Across from them, the three alphas harboring hybrids watch me enter with wary eyes.
Alpha Calloway of Blue River Pack leans back in his chair, arms crossed. Alpha Strand from Silver Rock drums his fingers on the table. And Alpha Voss of East Ridge Pack studies me with an intensity that makes my teeth grind together.
“Darius.” Jeddian Vince gestures to the empty seat beside him. “Thank you for coming. These three alphas have a proposal regarding the hybrid situation.”
I take my seat, forcing my mind away from Violet. Later. Think about her later.
But dread is building in my chest.
“Let’s hear it.” I keep my tone even, professional.
Calloway straightens. “We’ve been discussing your position on hybrids. Specifically, the push for mandatory relocation to containment facilities.”
“For everyone’s safety,” I say. “The massacre eleven years ago proves the threat is real. Forty-three soldiers lost in a single night. I saw the site myself, the destruction.”
“We heard the reports.” Strand’s voice carries skepticism. “We have also protected hybrids within our territories for generations without incident.”
My jaw clenches. “When they lose control, people die. Our warriors were torn apart.”
“Your pack’s version of the event is the only one documented,” Voss says carefully. “No outside investigation was ever conducted. Don’t you find that concerning?”
A coldness slithers down my spine. I push it away. “My own brother survived that attack. Zion was there, fighting alongside one of our soldiers. The incident changed him. He became withdrawn, haunted. My father had to reassign him because he couldn’t handle it.”
“And the soldier who fought beside him?”
“Found dead a few weeks later.” The words taste bitter. “The trauma was too much.”
“Only two witnesses to the worst hybrid attack in pack history,” Voss says slowly. “One becomes plagued with memories and gets reassigned. The other kills himself shortly after. And your pack uses this single incident to justify eliminating an entire subspecies.”
My pulse pounds in my temples. He’s implying something that I don’t want to examine too closely. Not now. Not when Violet is out there and I’m stuck in this room playing politics.
“The evidence speaks for itself,” I say, my voice harsh. “I was there in the aftermath. I helped clear the bodies, witnessed the carnage. I saw what those hybrids were capable of.”
“Your pack controlled all the evidence from the beginning,” Calloway says. “No outside eyes, no independent verification. And now, eleven years later, you’re using that one incident to justify removing all hybrids from every pack in the Coalition.”
“We’re willing to consider your proposal,” Voss continues, “but only if the events from eleven years ago are investigated again. Properly this time. With our people involved.”
I force myself to breathe through the implications trying to surface in my brain. The pieces don’t fit together the way they should. My father’s refusal to allow outside investigators. The sealed site. The convenient absence of witnesses.
But I can’t focus on eleven-year-old mysteries when Violet is at her apartment right now. When I still have a chance to fix this.
“What is there to investigate?” I keep my voice level. “The massacre happened over a decade ago.”
“After removal of the bodies,” Strand says quietly, “the site was sealed off. Completely restricted. Nobody has been allowed near it since. Is that correct?”
I nod slowly. “Standard protocol. We had to secure the area.”
“For eleven years?” Voss’s eyebrows rise. “There should have been a multipack investigation conducted immediately. Or at least now, when your father is pushing for the extermination of all hybrids based on that event.”
My throat goes dry. Our pack handled the whole thing internally, my father overseeing every detail. I never questioned it before. We’d lost so many soldiers. The grief was overwhelming.
But now, with these three alphas staring at me like I’m complicit in some cover-up…
“We had survivors,” I remind them. “Physical evidence. The destruction was real. I saw it myself.”
“I’m sure it was,” Calloway says. “Which is exactly why there should have been a proper, multilateral investigation when it happened. You’re asking us to hand over hybrids from our packs, to essentially sentence them to death, based solely on your pack’s account of what happened.
Surely you can see why that’s problematic. ”
Voss leans forward. “We will investigate your claims ourselves. If the evidence supports the hybrid threat as clearly as you say, we’ll reconsider our position on this matter.”
This could work. Let them investigate, see it for themselves. The bodies are gone, but the destruction remains. They’ll understand then.
Plus, agreeing to their proposal will get me out of here faster. Get me back to Violet.
But there’s one detail that isn’t sitting right with me…
“Why didn’t you push for this earlier?” The question comes out sharper than I intend it to. “If you had concerns about the investigation, why wait eleven years?”
The three alphas exchange a knowing look, one I can’t quite read.
“Your pack has only now begun demanding we hand over the hybrids within our territories,” Calloway explains slowly.
“Your father is using political pressure, economic sanctions, threats of expulsion from the Coalition. All sorts of dirty tactics to force compliance.” He leans forward, his power filling the space between us.
“And we did ask for a multipack investigation, Darius. Eleven years ago, when the bodies were still fresh and the crime scene intact. We were denied.”
The room tilts. They were denied?
I was young then, a teenager, focused on the immediate horror. My father took me to see the slaughter, the bloodshed. But the political decisions happened above my head.
Why would he refuse an investigation that would have proven our case?
“However,” Strand says, breaking into my thoughts, “we are still willing to investigate your pack’s claims. If the evidence supports what you’ve described, we will reconsider our position.”
“Fine.” The word comes without hesitation. I have full authority to make this decision. Let them look. “You can investigate. Send your people. The evidence supports what happened.”
“Three from each of our packs,” Calloway says immediately. “Our best forensic specialists and investigators. We will arrive in your territory in two days.”
I nod, already standing. “We’re agreed then. Investigation first, then we’ll reconvene to vote.”
“Agreed,” Voss says, watching me with those knowing eyes.
I’m out the door before anyone can add more conditions.
Jeddian catches up to me in the hallway. “That went better than expected.”
I can barely hear him over the relief pounding through my veins. I’ve already checked my phone. Ethan says Violet hasn’t left her apartment. She’s still there.
“Why didn’t my father allow the investigation eleven years ago?” I stop and turn to face him. “You were there. You must know.”
Jeddian’s expression shifts, an uncomfortable look crossing his features. “Honestly? I don’t know.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“Of course I asked.” His jaw tightens. “Your father shut me down. Said his decision was final.”