Chapter 67
Violet's POV:
The weekend dinner at my parents' house should have been comforting, but Marcus's voice carried a weight that made my silverware feel heavier in my hands. "Sometimes I think if you'd had children earlier, Violet, the house would be so much livelier now," he said, cutting into his pot roast with deliberate precision. "With grandchildren running around, Sunday dinners wouldn't feel so quiet."
My mother's fork clattered against her plate with enough force to make both of us flinch. "Marcus, you have no idea what childbirth is like," Eleanor said, her voice sharp and uncharacteristically cold. "I almost died from hemorrhaging when Violet was born. Do you remember that? Do you remember how the doctors said I was minutes away from bleeding out?"
The silence that followed felt thick enough to choke on. My father's face shifted through several expressions before settling on something that looked like genuine remorse, the memory clearly hitting him harder than I'd expected. "You're right, Eleanor. I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice stripped of its usual commanding tone. "I shouldn't have spoken so lightly about it." He turned to me, reaching across the table to pat my hand with awkwardness. "After the rejection ceremony, you can take your time finding someone who truly loves you, sweetheart. The Pack needs heirs, but your happiness comes first. It always should have."
"Come on," my mother said softly, her hand warm on my shoulder. "The pot roast is getting cold, and you know your father hates reheated meat."
We returned to the table and finished dinner in relative quiet, the conversation shifting to safer topics like Pack business.
Back in my childhood bedroom, I stared at my phone screen as messages started rolling in. The friend group chat was its usual chaotic mess, with Sienna posting memes and Jade and Lily arguing about whether the new restaurant downtown was worth the hype, but when I typed out my announcement, the conversation stopped dead. "Girls, I'm going to Silver Ridge at the end of the month to learn the family business with Aunt Sophia. I'll be gone for quite a while."
The response was immediate. "We're gonna miss you so much!" from Jade, followed by a crying emoji. "But honestly, getting away from that mess is exactly what you need," from Lily. "FINALLY putting yourself first!" from Sienna. "He doesn't deserve another second of your time, Vi. Go live your life." I smiled at my screen despite the tightness in my throat, scrolling through their messages.
I poured myself a glass of red wine and settled into bed with my laptop, intending to do some research on Silver Ridge's business landscape, but my phone kept buzzing with new messages. Dominic and Victoria had apparently decided that radio silence wasn't working and had switched tactics to aggressive friendliness. "Hope you're doing well, Violet. We're thinking of you," from Dominic, followed ten minutes later by Victoria's "Dear, how are you feeling? Please let us know if you need anything."
I stared at both messages for a long time, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. These people had known about Aurora, had been part of the system that pushed her toward that river, and now they wanted to play concerned in-laws like they hadn't spent five years watching their son treat me like furniture. The urge to type something cutting and cruel was almost overwhelming, but I forced myself to breathe through it and settled for a simple "I'm fine, thank you" that was polite enough to pass Pack standards without encouraging further conversation.
My phone buzzed again, but this time it was Daemon's name on the screen. "How are you?" followed three minutes later by "I transferred some money to your account. Go out with your friends, get some fresh air." I pulled up my banking app and saw a new deposit: $500,000, with the notation "For you."
I didn't respond, didn't transfer the money back, just let his messages sit there unanswered while I opened Instagram and started scrolling through my feed. Celeste's most recent post was from two hours ago, a carefully cropped screenshot of a text conversation where the sender's name and profile picture had been deliberately cut out. "Happy weekend," read the message, followed by a transfer notification for $500,000 with the same "For you" notation I'd just received.
I stared at that screenshot until my eyes burned, at the carefully calculated post that was designed to look spontaneous while actually being a masterclass in subtle bragging. Ember was snarling in my head, furious and territorial in a way that made my fingers twitch with the urge to shift and tear something apart. "He's playing both sides!" she growled.
I closed Instagram and tossed my phone onto the nightstand, draining the rest of my wine in three long swallows that burned going down.
Sunday morning started with my mother shaking my shoulder and telling me to get dressed because my father had an important meeting and wanted me there. "It's good for you to learn about the business side of things," Eleanor said, already laying out a deep blue wrap dress. I showered quickly and followed my parents to the Alpha's office, expecting another boring discussion about territory boundaries or alliance politics, but when we walked into the conference room, Beck was sitting at the table with a coffee in one hand and a folder of documents in the other.
He stood immediately when he saw me, his smile warm and genuine in a way that made something in my chest loosen slightly. "Violet, good to see you," he said, and I managed to return the greeting without my voice shaking. My father launched into introductions and explanations, talking about how Beck's family had partnered with ours on various cross-border ventures over the years and how he was back in the Pack now after spending time abroad, looking to explore potential collaborations. The conversation flowed easily, touching on logistics and market trends and investment opportunities, but I caught Beck looking at me several times with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"I've been away for years, but I always missed home," Beck said at one point. "There's something about this territory that gets under your skin. No matter how far you go, you always end up wanting to come back."
My father nodded approvingly and then asked about Beck's personal life with all the subtlety of a freight train. "So what about you, son? Haven't found the right person yet?"
Beck's smile turned slightly rueful. "Haven't found the right person yet. But I'm patient. Good things come to those who wait, right?" His eyes flicked to me for just a fraction of a second before returning to my father.
I saw my parents exchange a look that made my stomach sink. They were already planning, already trying to set up a safety net for when my marriage imploded. I appreciated the thought, but the idea of being passed from one man to another made me want to scream. I forced myself to smile and contribute to the conversation, already calculating how quickly I could escape to Silver Ridge.
After breakfast, I headed to the garden area downstairs at the company building, settling into one of the outdoor benches and tilting my face toward the sun. I'd barely closed my eyes when my phone started vibrating with a video call from Sienna, and I answered it expecting some kind of emergency only to be greeted by her face pulled into an exaggerated guilty expression.
"So," she said, drawing out the word. "Don't be mad."
I felt my shoulders tense immediately. "What did you do?"
"Nothing bad! I promise it's not bad. It's just, okay, you know how you mentioned wanting to learn more about business management and maybe start your own company someday? Well, I might have suggested to your dad that Beck would be a great person for you to talk to about that, since he's got all that international experience and—"
"Sienna Walsh," I interrupted, my voice dangerously quiet. "Did you just set me up?"
"No! Not set up, not like that. I just thought, you know, networking is important, and he seems like a decent guy, and it wouldn't hurt to have someone in your corner who isn't emotionally invested in your trainwreck of a marriage, and—"
"I swear I'm gonna strangle you next time I see you," I said, but there was no real heat in it.
"You love me," Sienna said confidently. "And you know I'm right. That asshole Daemon has been treating you like garbage for years, and Beck is actually nice and successful and, let's be honest, pretty hot in that distinguished older businessman kind of way."
"I'm not looking for anyone," I said firmly. "I'm looking to get out of this marriage and build a life that doesn't revolve around some man's approval. That's the whole point of going to Silver Ridge."
"I know, I know. But it doesn't hurt to keep your options open, right? Just think about it."
We talked for a few more minutes before she claimed she had another appointment and hung up with suspicious haste, leaving me staring at my phone and wondering exactly how much my friends and family had been discussing my future behind my back. The thought made me restless, made me need to move and think and process everything somewhere outside my parents' watchful eyes, so I grabbed my keys and headed for my motorcycle, planning to ride to the nearby coffee shop and clear my head with caffeine and distance.
The parking lot was crowded for a Sunday afternoon, full of families coming and going with to-go cups and pastry boxes, but I found a spot near the back and was maneuvering my bike into position when I spotted a familiar black Range Rover parked in the handicapped spot. My heart did something uncomfortable in my chest, and I slowed down, peering through my helmet visor at the SUV's passenger side. The door opened, and Celeste stepped out, her blonde hair catching the late afternoon sunlight as she leaned back into the vehicle to say something to whoever was driving. She straightened after a moment and climbed back in, and the SUV pulled forward slowly, heading toward the exit.
That's when Daemon saw me. The Range Rover lurched to a stop so suddenly that I heard the screech of brakes and the angry honking of the car behind him, and through the windshield I could see Celeste's body pitch forward with the momentum before the seatbelt caught her. Daemon threw open his door and climbed out, his expression unreadable as he started walking toward me with long, deliberate strides that made my pulse spike with something that might have been fear or anticipation or just sheer exhaustion at having to deal with him again.
I finished parking my bike and pulled off my helmet, meeting his eyes as he approached.
"When are you coming back to the estate?" he asked without preamble.
"We'll see," I said, matching his tone. "You should worry about her first instead of bothering me."
I didn't mention Silver Ridge. With Daemon's current wavering attitude, if he knew I was planning to leave the Pack, who knew what complications he'd create. Better to present him with a done deal once I was already gone. Distance would make it harder for him to interfere, and by then, what could he really do about it?
Behind him, Celeste had gotten out of the SUV and was walking toward us with hesitant steps, her expression carefully arranged into something that looked like concern mixed with embarrassment. She stopped a few feet away, close enough to be part of the conversation but far enough to maintain plausible deniability.
"Violet," Celeste said softly, her voice pitched perfectly to convey distress without being overly dramatic. "I'm sorry you have to see this. I know it looks bad."
I raised an eyebrow and waited, curious to see what excuse she'd come up with this time. She didn't disappoint.
"I ran off earlier today because I was upset about something," she continued, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a gesture that was probably supposed to look vulnerable. "My parents thought Daemon encouraged me to leave home, so they called him and made a scene. He's just trying to take me back and explain things to them so they'll stop blaming him for my decisions."
I glanced at Daemon and saw him watching Celeste with something complicated and pained, but he didn't contradict her story or offer any additional context. He just stood there, letting her control the narrative, and I felt a cold laugh rising in my chest. This was Celeste's specialty: maintaining that perfect image of the sweet, selfless girl who only wanted to spare everyone trouble, always painting herself as the innocent victim who never meant to cause problems, while Daemon willingly played the knight rushing to her rescue every single time.
"I see," I said finally, my voice completely neutral. "Well, I won't keep you two. Good luck with the Morrisons."
I put my helmet back on and started my engine, drowning out whatever polite goodbye Celeste was attempting, and pulled out of the parking lot without looking back.