Chapter 56
Violet's POV:
Sienna's grin widened into something sharp and delighted. "Speaking of Evan, did you know he went back to the bar after Daemon carried you out? Found that creep who grabbed you and beat the absolute shit out of him before handing him over to pack security, who very helpfully escorted him straight to the police with a nice bow on top."
I blinked, genuinely surprised by this information, and something uncomfortable twisted in my chest at the image of Evan, always so controlled and precise, losing enough composure to get into a physical altercation on my behalf.
"That was decent of him," I said carefully, keeping my voice neutral. "But Evan has no interest in me beyond basic human decency and possibly some professional concern about my repeated tendency to end up injured."
Sienna made a dismissive sound and waved one hand in the air as if physically batting away my pessimism. "Girl, I'm just saying, you've got two incredibly powerful, gorgeous men suddenly paying very close attention to you. Daemon's acting completely different than he ever has before, and even Evan—Mr. Ice Cold himself—is treating you like you're something special. If that's not the setup for the world's most dramatic love triangle, I don't know what is."
"You're reading way too much into basic human decency," I said. "Let's talk about something else."
I kept my mouth shut about memories from another life where Evan would eventually fall for Celeste with the kind of devastating completeness that left no room for anyone else.
---
The afternoon stretched into evening with the comfortable chaos of longtime friends keeping vigil.
By sunset, Jade left earlier about a border patrol emergency pulling her away, apologizing profusely.
The room felt quieter after they left, the comfortable chaos replaced by the steady beep of monitors and distant hospital sounds.
I needed to call my parents, but the thought of hearing my mother's voice made my throat tight with complicated emotions. She'd just stabilized after the trauma of those photos, her heart finally settling into a normal rhythm. The last thing she needed was to know her daughter had been drugged, beaten, and nearly killed in some abandoned factory.
I picked up the phone and dialed before I could talk myself out of it. My father answered on the second ring. "Violet, sweetheart. Where are you? Your mother has been asking about you every hour."
The lie came easily, smoothly. "I'm still in the city, Dad. Staying with friends for a few days. We're having a little reunion, catching up, you know how it is."
"That sounds nice," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Your mother is doing so much better today. The doctors said she should be able to come home in another day or two if her levels stay stable. She'll want to see you when she's out."
We talked for a few more minutes, my father's voice warm with cautious optimism, and when we finally hung up I felt the tight knot in my chest ease just slightly. At least that crisis had been contained. At least my mother would be okay.
I set the phone down and closed my eyes, letting exhaustion wash over me. The concussion made everything feel unreal, like viewing the world through gauze, and combined with the pain medication it was hard to hold onto coherent thoughts.
I must have dozed off without meaning to, because the next thing I knew I was blinking awake in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, my mouth dry and my head pounding. The room had darkened to full night, and for a disorienting moment I couldn't remember where I was or why my entire body hurt.
Then I shifted and felt the pull of bruises, the sharp protest of muscles that had been violently abused, and it all came rushing back.
I reached for the water cup on the bedside table with clumsy fingers, but it was empty.
That's when I felt it. The subtle shift in the air, the prickling awareness along my spine that meant I wasn't alone anymore. My eyes snapped open fully and I turned my head, expecting to see my friends or maybe a night shift nurse doing rounds.
Instead, I found Daemon sitting in the chair beside my bed.
He was still wearing the same clothes from the factory, I realized with a jolt. The white dress shirt was filthy with dust and streaked with dried blood. He looked like he'd come straight from whatever aftermath he'd been dealing with without stopping anywhere in between.
"You're awake," he said finally, and his voice came out rough. "How do you feel?"
"Thirsty," I said, because that was easier than trying to articulate the complicated tangle of emotions currently knotting themselves in my chest. "The water's empty."
He stood immediately and picked up the plastic pitcher from the small table across the room. I heard water running in the attached bathroom, heard the pitcher being filled, and then he was back, pouring fresh water into my cup with steady hands.
He held the cup to my lips and I drank, too disoriented by this sudden tenderness to protest the intimacy of it, and when I'd had enough he set it aside and settled back into his chair without comment. The silence stretched between us.
"Connor and Dylan," I said finally, because I needed to know, needed to understand what came next. "What's going to happen to them?"
Something dangerous flickered across Daemon's face, there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it. "The pack council convened an emergency session this afternoon. Both of them have been charged under pack law for assault, attempted murder, and conspiracy to commit fraud."
"Connor will undergo spirit severance at the next full moon. The elders will use ancient magic to forcibly separate him from his wolf. After that, he'll be exiled to human territory."
My breath caught. Spirit severance. The cruelest punishment in wolf society, worse than death itself. The severed lived on as broken shells, haunted by phantom pain, most choosing suicide within years.
"And Dylan?"
"Stripped of pack membership and marked as rogue. Every allied pack has been notified to deny him entry. He can be killed on sight without legal consequence."
A heavy silence fell between us, and then his expression shifted into something darker, more controlled. "Why did you give your contact information to a stranger? Why did you go to a musical with him, to that remote restaurant?"
The question caught me off guard, the sudden shift from pack justice to personal interrogation.
"Daemon," I said quietly, meeting his blood-red eyes directly. "Are you jealous?"
His face went rigid, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "Jealous? I'm embarrassed. My Luna gets tricked by some omega con artist, nearly gets herself killed and dumped in a river. If the media found out, the entire Frost Pack would become a laughingstock."
The words hit like a slap, and I felt something in my chest turn to ice. Of course. Of course it was about appearances, about pack reputation, about how my near-death experience reflected on him rather than any actual concern for my safety or wellbeing.
I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Then let's schedule the rejection ceremony as soon as possible. Once it's done, whatever stupid things your former Luna does won't be your problem anymore."
"I don't want anything. No property, no territory, nothing. Consider it payment for saving my life tonight. Oh, and those photos—" I paused, then added, "Those are the originals, right?"
His face had gone pale, then flushed with something that looked almost like rage, but he didn't respond. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a large manila envelope, throwing it onto the blankets with barely controlled force.
"The originals. All of them."
Then he turned and walked out, the door closing behind him with a sharp click that echoed in the sudden silence, leaving me alone with the damning evidence that my father was finally, truly safe.
---
I must have dozed off again, because when I woke the envelope was still clutched against my chest and early morning light was filtering through the blinds in soft gray tones that turned everything ghostly and unreal. My phone was buzzing on the bedside table with an incoming call, and I grabbed it without looking at the screen, my voice coming out hoarse and rough from sleep.
"Hello?"
"Violet!" My father's voice burst through the speaker with an excitement I hadn't heard from him in months. "Sweetheart, we did it! We actually did it! Kayla's been arrested on charges of extortion and fraud, and Caleb is going down with her. The police found at least four other victims of their scheme, built a complete case. We're free, honey. We're actually free."
I sat up too fast, the room spinning slightly from the concussion, and tried to make sense of what he was saying through the fog in my brain. "Dad, slow down. What happened?"
"I asked Dominic for help. Well, Dominic passed the case to Daemon, and Daemon went all in on it. He personally went to Riverside and tracked down Caleb, interviewed the other victims, gathered enough evidence that the district attorney is calling it one of the most solid extortion cases they've seen in years. Kayla was arrested this morning, and Caleb is in custody too. They're both looking at serious prison time."
The words hit me in waves as the full scope of what Daemon had done became horrifyingly clear. He'd built an entire case from scratch, gone to another pack's territory personally, made sure Kayla and Caleb would be put away permanently.
And I'd accused him of using that evidence to blackmail me into a faster rejection.
"That's... that's wonderful, Dad," I managed, my voice barely working properly. "I'm so glad you're safe."
When we finally hung up, I just sat there staring at nothing, my mind racing through every interaction I'd had with Daemon over the past few weeks.
The door opened and Sienna walked in carrying a bag that smelled like bacon and eggs, her face brightening when she saw I was awake. "Morning, sunshine! I brought breakfast from that place you like, figured hospital food wasn't going to cut it after—" She stopped mid-sentence, taking in whatever expression was on my face. "Oh no. What happened? Did you have another nightmare? Is it the concussion? Should I call Evan?"
"Sienna," I said, and my voice cracked on her name, everything I'd been holding in suddenly threatening to spill over. "I think I completely screwed up. I think I've been wrong about Daemon in the worst possible way, and I don't know how to fix it."