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 whenI 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?”
Normally, I tolerate Rachel’s behavior. She’s dominant enough that she keeps the other women in line, preventing the kind of petty drama that would waste my time. I basically ignore it when she touches me. I’ve never encouraged her, but I’ve never explicitly shut her down, either.
But right now, with my mate walking away, Rachel’s hand on my arm feels like a violation. I shake it off with enough force to make her stumble back a step.
Violet doesn’t even glance our way. Just keeps heading toward the elevators as if nothing’s happening. As if I don’t exist.
“Violet.”
The single word comes out like a whip crack. A command that makes every shifter on the floor freeze. The soft click of Violet’s heels against the floor stops immediately, but she doesn’t turn to face me.
“Where are you going?” My voice is lower now, controlled, but there’s an edge to it that makes the temperature in the room drop.
Silence.
Rachel recovers quickly, that fake smile still plastered on her face. “Oh, don’t worry about her,” she says with a dismissive wave. “The new girl’s just doing a coffee run. I needed someone to pick up the afternoon orders, and she seemed like the perfect person for it.”
Behind Rachel, I can see the other women exchanging glances. Clear amusement. Delight at putting the weak wolf in her place.
Heat floods through me, rage building behind my sternum like pressure in a volcano.
I slowly turn my head to look back at Rachel. “Who gave you the authority to send employees on coffee runs?”
Rachel blinks, her smile faltering. “I—What?”
“Are your legs broken?” I take a step toward her, and satisfaction flares when she automatically moves back. “Or are you just too incompetent to get your own coffee?”
Her face flushes. “She’s hardly an employee.” The words come out sounding defensive, almost petulant. Rachel gestures past me toward where Violet is standing. “She’s hardly a shifter. She doesn’t belong in this office.”
Silence.
I wait for Violet to react. To unleash the same cold fury I saw her direct at the cook yesterday morning. To put Rachel in her place. But she says nothing.
