Chapter 14
Violet's POV:
Chancellor Henderson mumbled an apology and retreated to the podium, leaving a heavy silence in the VIP box. I sat perfectly still, legs crossed, watching the inevitable unfold.
Celeste Morrison approached our section with a tray of commemorative silver pins and chilled water. Her uniform was crisp, her high ponytail swaying as she moved. She looked innocent, completely unaware she was walking into a trap.
"Water for the Alpha and Luna?" she asked, her voice bright.
She extended a bottle toward Daemon. As he reached out, their fingertips brushed.
It was subtle, but I saw Daemon’s shoulders lock. The air around him seemed to warp. He didn't pull away. Instead, he inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as he drank in her scent—sea breeze and jasmine. It was the scent that had once signaled the end of my life.
Slowly, a smile spread across Daemon’s face.
It wasn't his practiced business smile or the cold smirk he reserved for me. It was primal. It was the look of a wolf who had finally found the trail he was born to follow.
"Thank you," he said. His voice dropped an octave, vibrating with a confusing mixture of aggression and charm.
Celeste froze. The sheer force of his Alpha aura hit her like a physical wave. Her face flushed a violent crimson, and her breath hitched. She looked at him, blue eyes wide and trembling, caught in the headlights of his intensity.
From the shadows, I watched them.
"You're welcome," Celeste stammered. She pulled her hand back as if burned, clutching the tray to her chest before retreating quickly.
Daemon didn't look at me. He didn't watch the ceremony. He stared at her retreating figure, his pupils blown wide. The hunt had begun.
The ceremony ended in a blur of applause. As the crowd dispersed, the exit became a bottleneck of high-society wolves.
Near the grand doors, my parents, Marcus and Eleanor, were holding court. Before I could signal them, the crowd parted to reveal Dominic and Victoria Blackwood—Daemon’s parents. The convergence was immediate.
"Marcus! The expansion in the western territory looks magnificent," Dominic boomed, shaking my father’s hand.
"We have the Blackwood logistics team to thank for that," my father replied. "And how is retirement, Victoria?"
"Oh, purely administrative," Victoria laughed. "Though we wish the children would give us a reason to stay home. A nursery to decorate, perhaps?"
I saw Daemon trapped in the center, nodding mechanically, though his eyes kept darting toward the side exits, scanning for blonde hair. While the titans of industry discussed business, I took a step back, slipping into the stream of exiting students.
I moved toward the side entrance near the volunteer changing rooms. Celeste emerged a moment later, dressed in jeans and a pink sweater, checking her phone with a furrowed brow.
"Celeste!" I called out.
She jumped, nearly dropping her phone. "Oh! Luna."
"Just Violet," I corrected gently, stepping into her path. "You were wonderful today. Truly professional."
Celeste blushed, tucking a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. "Thank you. I was just heading out. Zane is actually waiting for me by the side gate. We were planning to go grab some barbecue at that spot on 4th Street." She paused. "Unless... would you like to join us?"
"I'd love to," I said. "I'm starving, and frankly, gala food is terrible. Lead the way."
Celeste blinked, surprised but pleased. "Oh! Great! Let's go then."
Thirty minutes later, we sat at a small, wobbly metal table. Zane sat next to Celeste, performing the role of the perfect mate with desperate intensity. He wiped down her utensils and piled meat onto her plate.
"Eat more," he murmured, avoiding my gaze.
I sipped my iced tea. "Zane tells me you two have been together for two years," I said pleasantly. "That's rare these days. Such loyalty."
Zane choked on his water. Celeste beamed, oblivious. "He's the best."
Celeste’s phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with an unsaved number. I didn't need to look to know the digits.
Daemon.
Celeste glanced at the screen, and the color drained from her face. She flipped the phone over, placing it face down on the table with a sharp clack.
"Who was that?" Zane asked, pausing with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, looking at her with mild concern.
"Spam," she said quickly, her voice pitching a little too high. "Just... telemarketers."
I smiled internally. The Alpha wasn't wasting time.
"So annoying," I sympathized.
While Celeste was distracted, I slipped my hand into my purse and typed a text blindly.
How does the bike feel? Smooth? You look good today, Zane. Why do you keep looking away? Are you afraid of me?
I hit send.
Across the table, Zane’s pocket vibrated. He stiffened. He glanced at me, eyes wide with panic. I simply raised an eyebrow and took a bite of a grilled mushroom.
He checked the message under the table. His Adam's apple bobbed. He looked at the text, then at me, then at his girlfriend. The guilt was eating him alive, but the thrill was clearly there.
Suddenly, Celeste’s phone rang. Loudly.
She jumped, staring at the screen with horror. It was the same number. Daemon was calling.
"Aren't you going to answer that?" I asked.
"No!" Celeste fumbled to silence it. "It's just that spam number again. They're relentless."
"Harassment is a serious issue," I said, leaning forward. "You know, Celeste, men like that—creeps who won't take a hint—they thrive on attention. My advice? Block the number. Immediately."
Celeste looked at me, gratitude swimming in her eyes. "You think so?"
"Absolutely," I said. "Block him. Delete the call log. Pretend he doesn't exist."
She nodded and tapped the screen. Blocked.
I suppressed a laugh. I had just instructed the Alpha’s true mate to block him. It wouldn't stop Daemon, but it would infuriate him.
After lunch, I watched the couple walk back toward the dorms before heading to the parking lot. I mounted the heavy motorcycle I had reclaimed earlier and tore down the coastal highway, letting the wind numb my face.
When I returned to Blackwood Manor, twilight had settled.
I entered the main hall. Dominic and Victoria sat in the grand drawing room. They looked up as I entered, windblown and smelling of exhaust.
"Violet?" Victoria asked, frowning. "You're alone? Where is Daemon?"
I paused, feigning surprise. "I... I assumed he was here with you. I had a lunch engagement. Daemon said he was coming straight home."
Dominic put his teacup down with a sharp clatter. "He isn't here. We've been waiting for two hours."
"Oh," I whispered, looking at the floor. "I see. Well... I suppose something came up."
"Call him," Victoria commanded. "Put him on speaker. I want to know exactly what is so important."
I pulled out my phone. If Celeste had blocked him, Daemon would have sought out the only thing that could numb the frustration: alcohol and noise.
I dialed his number. It rang twice before connecting.
The sound that filled the elegant drawing room was deafening—thumping bass and raucous laughter.
"Daemon! Look who it is!" Lucian Cross’s voice boomed through the speaker, slurred and loud. "It’s the Luna calling for a curfew check!"
Background laughter erupted. "Tell her to go knit a sweater!" Felix Hunt shouted.
Dominic’s face turned purple. Victoria’s hand flew to her mouth.
Then, Daemon’s voice cut through the noise. Cold, dismissive, and dripping with impatience.
"Hang up, Lucian," Daemon snapped. "I’m not in the mood for her whining. Don't answer it."
The line didn't go dead. Lucian hesitated.
I stood there, holding the phone out, letting my in-laws hear every syllable.
"Just hang up," Daemon growled again, his voice dripping with irritation. "I said—"
"On it," Lucian mumbled, his finger clearly hovering over the end call button. "Sorry—"
"Lucian Cross."
Victoria’s voice cut through the drawing room air like a whip crack. "Put my son on the phone. Now."
The line didn't go dead. Instead, there was a chaotic fumbling sound, followed by a sharp intake of breath. The music seemed to drop away as Lucian scrambled for clarity.
"Daemon..." Lucian’s voice came back, trembling. "It’s... it’s Auntie Victoria. She's on the line."
The laughter in the background died instantly. A dead, heavy silence stretched across the connection, vibrating with sudden dread.
"What?" Daemon’s tone changed instantly, the arrogance evaporating into thin air. "Mom?"
I looked at Victoria. Her eyes were hard as flint. I looked at Dominic, who looked ready to tear the phone in half.
"Hello, Daemon," I said softly, my voice sweet and helpful. "Your parents are here. We’re all waiting for you."