Chapter 10
Violet's POV:
"Dr. Thorne," I said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on my lips. "I was just making sure the patient was comfortable."
"I can see that," Evan replied, his voice devoid of warmth. He didn't step into the room; instead, he held the door open wider, a silent command for me to exit. "A word, Luna. Outside."
I glanced back at Zane. "Rest well, Zane," I murmured, before walking past Evan into the corridor.
The moment the door clicked shut, the professional veneer dropped. Evan ushered me toward a quiet alcove near the nurses' station.
"What are you doing, Violet?" he asked, keeping his voice hushed to avoid alerting the passing staff. "You are the Luna of the Frost Pack. Flirting with an injured college student in my hospital? If Daemon catches wind of this—"
"If Daemon catches wind of this, what?" I interrupted, leaning back against the cold wall and crossing my arms. "Will he be upset that I'm infringing on his trademarked lifestyle? Or is hypocrisy a privilege reserved only for Alphas?"
Evan sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. He ran a hand through his sandy-blond hair, his frustration palpable. "Two wrongs don't make a right, Violet. You are playing a dangerous game. If you are seen seeking comfort outside your bond, the Council will view it as instability. You could lose everything."
"Daemon parades his conquests through the city, leaving a trail of broken hearts and tabloid scandals, and you say nothing to him. Yet when I offer a boy a glass of water and a smile, I am the one destabilizing the pack?" I countered.
"I have spoken to Daemon," Evan argued. "But he is the Alpha. He listens when he chooses to listen. You, however... you have always been the sensible one."
"I am done being sensible. I have done my duty to the utmost for five years, Evan. I have been the perfect statue in his perfect house." I pushed off the wall, stepping into his personal space. "But since you are so concerned about the state of my marriage, perhaps you can help me fix it."
Evan looked at me warily. "How?"
"Meet me for dinner tonight," I said, checking my watch. "Eight o'clock. There is something I need to discuss with you."
He hesitated, his gaze searching my face for deceit. "Dinner? Where?"
"McDonald's," I said, naming the franchise near the university district.
Evan blinked, his aristocratic features twisting in confusion. "The fast-food place? Violet, surely—"
"It’s neutral ground," I lied smoothly. "And the fries are excellent. Please, Evan. If you care about the alliance between Frost and Wildfire, meet me there."
He studied me for a long moment. Finally, he nodded.
The evening air was thick with the scent of grease and exhaust fumes. I sat in a booth at the back of the McDonald’s. From my vantage point, I had a clear view of the counter, the kitchen, and the front door.
At exactly 8:00 PM, Evan Thorne walked in. He looked absurdly out of place. Wearing a tailored blue suit, he stood amidst the sticky tables and fluorescent lights like a diamond in a landfill. He scanned the room with distaste, spotting me only when I waved a fry in his direction.
"So," Evan slid into the booth opposite me. "What did you want to discuss?"
"Just wait," I muttered, my eyes darting past him to the service counter.
I was waiting for Celeste Morrison.
My plan was desperate but logical. In my previous life, Daemon had met Celeste first, and the obsession had been instantaneous. Evan had only met her later. But Evan was a healer, a soul drawn to purity and kindness—traits Celeste possessed in abundance. If I could get Evan to see her now, to interact with her before Daemon did, maybe the Beta’s gentle heart would snag on her hook first.
The kitchen door swings open.
A girl walked out carrying a mop bucket. My heart leaped, then plummeted. It wasn't Celeste. It was a brunette teenager with braces.
I checked the time. 8:15. Celeste’s shift should have started fifteen minutes ago.
I watched the counter like a hawk for another ten minutes, ignoring Evan’s growing impatience. Finally, I flagged down the brunette.
"Excuse me," I asked, trying to keep my voice casual. "Is Celeste working tonight?"
The girl popped her gum. "Celeste? Nah. She swapped shifts with me."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I slumped back against the hard plastic seat, the fight draining out of me. Of course. Fate wasn't a line you could simply redraw with a crayon. It was a chasm, and I was trying to bridge it with toothpicks.
"Who is Celeste?" Evan frowned.
I pulled the cap lower over my eyes, laughing bitterly. "Just a ghost, Evan."
"You said you want to talk."
"Alright," I said, looking up at him. "I am trying to end it. Could you help me convince him to perform the Rejection Ceremony?"
Evan sighed, leaning back and crossing his arms. "I can't do that."
"Why?" I demanded. "You see how miserable we are. You see him with other women. Why force us to stay tethered?"
"Because a marriage between the Wildfire heir and the Frost Alpha is not about happiness," Evan stated, his voice taking on the clinical detachment of a doctor delivering a bad prognosis. "It is about territory, resources, and biology. Daemon is a rational creature, despite his vices. He will notsever a beneficial political alliance without a catalyst of immense magnitude. Unless a Fated Mate appears—which is statistically improbable after age twenty-five—he will never release you. It would be bad business."
"I see," I said, standing up. "Thank you for the honesty, Evan. Enjoy the burger."
The following week passed in a blur of sweat and bruised knuckles.
Daemon vanished, and the manor snapped back to its default setting. His recent, suffocating presence had been a bizarre glitch in our cold routine; now, the anomaly was finally corrected. Whether he was on business or with a mistress, he was gone. The house was mine again.
I stopped plotting. I stopped trying to manipulate the threads of time. Instead, I focused on the one thing I could control: myself.
Every morning at dawn, I was in the training ring. I ran until my lungs burned and my legs felt like jelly. I hit the heavy bag until my knuckles bled and calloused over. I ate lean proteins and green vegetables, forcing my body to repair the damage of a decade of neglect.
I was building it for the war. When the rejection came, when the spiritual backlash hit me, I needed to be strong enough to stay on my feet. I would not die on my knees in the mud again.
"Look at you," Sienna shouted over the thumping bass of the local wolf bar, The Iron Claw. "You actually have color in your cheeks!"
"I'm not the only one," I shouted back, taking a sip of sparkling water. I gestured toward Lily, who was sitting across from us, looking soft and radiant. "Lily is glowing, too."
"True!" Sienna agreed, slinging an arm around Lily’s shoulders. "That’s what happens when you have a mate who actually worships the ground you walk on. A well-fed wolf has a shiny coat, right?"
Lily tossed her head, a playful smirk playing on her lips.
"Look, Connor made me a bento box for lunch today," Lily said dreamily, showing us a picture of rice shaped like a rabbit. "He's so sweet. My mom says as long as he treats me like a queen, rank doesn't matter."
"That's beautiful, Lily," I said, and I meant it. "Hold onto that."
"I am," Lily beamed. "We're talking about the Mating Ceremony next spring. I just don't know where to start with the planning."
A spark ignited in my brain.
In my past life, before the marriage consumed me, I had been the top student in Event Management at Lupine Sovereign University. I had organized galas, charity balls, and pack summits. I had a gift for logistics, for turning chaos into choreography.
I set my glass down, a new clarity sharpening my vision.
Waiting to be rejected wasn't a plan. If I was going to leave Daemon, I needed more than just a healthy body. I needed resources. I needed a reputation that didn't depend on his name. I needed money that he couldn't freeze.
"I'll plan your ceremony," I said, leaning forward, my mind already racing with color palettes and vendor lists.