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 notjust 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.
