Ethan leans forward, his expression thoughtful. “She has never been able to shift, has she?” He reaches out and pats my shoulder. “It’s ironic. That you, who are so strong, were saddled with such a weak—”
I smack his hand away hard enough to make him wince. “Violet is anythingbut weak.”
The words come out more forcefully than I intend. More possessively.
My friend studies me for a long moment, his expression changing. “You have it bad for her.”
I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because he’s right, and we both know it.
I signal toward the door. The server appears immediately, and I order another bottle.
Ethan sighs. “You’re going to regret this tomorrow.”
“Add it to the list.”
The new bottle arrives almost immediately. I pour myself another glass, and another, until the edges of everything start to blur. Until the ache in my chest becomes something I can almost ignore.
Almost.
Three days passin a haze of forced distance.
I arrive before dawn and leave after midnight. My office becomes a cage where I lock myself inside, where I keep my eyes averted. I track Violet’s presence by sound alone. The rhythm of her typing. The soft click of her heels when she moves between desks. The low murmur of her voice in conversation.
I don’t let myself look.
The warning I issued after Rachel’s coffee incident has worked. Nobody dares mess with Violet now. I catch the occasional hostile glare, mostly from Rachel, but nobody does anything.
Meanwhile, Violet is settling into the division with the same quiet competence she brings to everything. She tackles complex disputes with focus and grit, asks the right questions, makes connections others miss.
She keeps to herself. Eats lunch at her desk. Maintains those impenetrable walls she has built.
And she never, ever looks at me unless she has to.
It’s exactly what I wanted. Right?
Friday afternoon, I’m in the conference room early, setting up for the weekly inter-pack relations meeting. Alliance documents are spread across the table. Territorial maps. Reports from partner packs.
The room fills slowly. Marcus from Legal. Sarah and a few other analysts. They sit down with their coffee and notepads. I keep my focus on the materials in front of me, but I know the exact moment Violet walks in.
Her scent hits me first. That artificial perfume trying so hard to mask what’s underneath. My wolf stirs, but I force my breathing to stay even.
She takes a seat three chairs down on the opposite side. Far enough to ignore. Close enough that every breath is torture.
The door opens again.
“Sorry I’m late. Traffic was hell.”
Ryker Laurent.
The alpha heir of the Ravenhood Pack strides in like he owns the place, flashing his easy smile. Expensive suit. Perfect hair. Everything about him screams privilege.
My jaw tightens.
He’s here as part of the alliance conditions. Integration at the corporate level. Joint initiatives. It sounded good on paper. In practice, it means dealing with his presence in my space.
He takes the seat directly across from Violet. My hands curl into fists under the table.
“Shall we begin?” I keep my voice level.
