Chapter 17
Violet's POV:
I watched from the shadows of the alleyway as Daemon pulled his phone from his pocket.
He didn't check the screen. He just answered, his eyes never leaving Celeste’s face.
"Speak," he commanded.
I held my phone to my ear. "Nothing," I said flatly. "Wrong number."
I hung up immediately.
In the distance, Daemon frowned, pulling the device away to glare at it. Confusion flickered across his features—he knew my voice—but it vanished as Celeste stepped closer, placing a timid hand on his arm. He slid the phone back into his pocket. He had made his choice.
I didn't scream or storm into the light like the old Violet would have. I simply turned on my heel and slipped back into the darkness, leaving them to their stolen moment.
The ride back to the city center cleared my head. As I neared the central plaza, traffic slowed to a crawl. The city was preparing for the Moonlight Festival, and the square was choked with construction crews.
I maneuvered my bike between the idling cars. To my left, a massive stage was being erected. A crane hoisted a heavy lighting rig toward the main truss, swaying in the gusting wind.
My grip tightened on the handlebars. My Event Management degree from Lupine Sovereign University wasn't just a piece of paper; I knew safety protocols. I knew load-bearing limits. And I knew the primary support beam on the stage’s left flank was buckled.
I killed the engine and vaulted over the temporary barricade.
"Stop the lift!" I shouted.
The foreman, a burly Beta, stepped in my path. "Hey! Restricted area. You can't—"
"I said stop the lift!" I grabbed his vest. I might have been the neglected mate, the Luna the pack whispered about behind closed doors, but the title was still mine. The authority was still woven into my voice, undeniable and absolute. "That truss is compromised. Look at the weld points. Add that rig, and you kill everyone in the front row."
The foreman blinked, stunned. He looked ready to argue, to dismiss the woman in biker leathers interrupting his work.
"Do it now!" I roared, letting the full weight of the Luna’s command crash down on him.
His wolf instincts overrode his confusion. He flinched and immediately barked into his radio. "Cut the power! Hold the load!"
The crane groaned as the brakes engaged. The heavy rig swung violently just ten feet above the stage floor.
At that exact moment, a fierce gust of wind tore through the plaza.
The metal of the support beam screeched. A rivet popped, shooting out like a bullet and pinging against the concrete. The structure shuddered and leaned, but because the extra weight hadn't been lowered, it held.
Silence descended on the square. The workers stared at the twisted metal, realizing how close they had come to disaster.
I let go of the foreman. "Get a structural engineer out here."
I turned to leave. The crowd at the barricades parted for me. There were whispers, but for the first time in years, the respect in their eyes wasn't because of my marriage. It was because of my competence.
The feeling of victory evaporated the moment I walked into Blackwood Manor.
"Luna! Thank the Goddess you're home!"
Ruby Morrison rushed out of the kitchen, eyes red and swimming with tears. She grabbed my hand before I could pull away.
"I just heard from Mason," she sobbed. "Alpha Blackwood... he is a saint. A true, benevolent leader."
My stomach turned. I looked down at the woman who would one day be Daemon’s mother-in-law. She was trembling with gratitude, unaware that the man she worshipped was seducing her daughter over the ruins of her husband’s shop.
"He paid for everything," Ruby babbled. "The repairs, the lost stock... I don't know how to repay him."
"I'm sure he doesn't expect repayment, Ruby," I said, my voice tight. He’s investing, I thought. He’s buying shares in your family.
Ruby looked up at me with pathetic devotion. In her eyes, I was the lucky wife of the most generous man alive.
"Make sure he knows how grateful we are," she whispered.
"I will." I extracted my hand.
It was the first night since his parents had left the estate. With the audience gone, the performance ended instantly.
Daemon didn't come home.
In my previous life, I would have paced the floor until dawn. Tonight, I showered, put on my silk pajamas, and climbed into the center of the king-sized bed.
I slept without dreaming.
The next morning, the sun was barely up when I hit the training grounds. The air was crisp as I sprinted toward the obstacle wall. I didn't slow down. I launched myself upward, hauling my body over with a grunt.
My muscles burned—a grounding pain. With every pull-up and sprint, I felt a stirring in my chest.
Ember.
My wolf was waking up. She was weak from years of suppression, but she was angry.
Run, she whispered. Fight.
By the time I finished, I was drenched in sweat, but I felt more alive than I had in five years.
I showered, dressed in a blazer and jeans, and drove to the university. I found Zane behind the cafeteria loading docks.
He looked terrible. Fresh bruises from that night’s attack darkened his skin, and he moved with a painful stiffness, yet he was still struggling to haul a heavy crate.
I walked over. "You're going to reopen those wounds if you keep this up."
Zane dropped the crate and spun around. "Luna... I didn't see you."
"Obviously." I looked at his worn sneakers.
I pulled out my phone. "Give me your payment handle."
"What? No, I can't—"
"Give it to me, Zane," I commanded. "You're a student. Your job is to study, not to haul potatoes while you're recovering."
He hesitated but mumbled his username. I tapped the screen. His phone pinged.
He pulled it out, eyes widening. "Violet... this is five thousand dollars. I can't take this."
"It's a loan," I lied. "Interest-free. Pay me back when you're a famous architect. Consider it an investment."
He looked from the screen to me, eyes welling up.
"Don't say anything," I said, brushing lint off his shoulder. "Just promise me you'll quit this job today."
"I will," he choked out. "Thank you."
I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes. I was doing exactly what Daemon did. He played the benevolent savior for Celeste, so I would play it for Zane. It was a twisted way to balance the scales—a mirror image of his betrayal. It made me feel dirty, but the vindictive satisfaction was undeniable.
"You're pushing yourself too hard," I said.
His face flushed instantly. "It's Celeste's birthday next week," he confessed. "I want to get her something special."
"She's lucky to have you," I said hollowly.
"Celeste?" Zane’s eyes suddenly widened, looking past my shoulder. A look of pure relief washed over his face. "Celeste! Over here!"
I turned. Celeste was walking along the path in a yellow sundress, looking fresh and innocent. She stopped, blinking in surprise as Zane run hurriedly toward her.
"Where have you been?" Zane asked, his voice thick with worry. "I've been calling you all morning. I thought something happened."
"I..." Celeste’s eyes darted away, her smile faltering for a fraction of a second. "I was in the library basement. There's no signal down there. I've been studying for history."
"You missed lunch," Zane said tenderly, ignoring her evasion. "Hungry?"
"I can't stay," she said, checking her watch a little too quickly. "I have that physical fitness test tomorrow. I need to head to the track and get some practice in before it gets dark."
"I'll come with you," Zane said immediately.
"But... look at you," she murmured, gesturing vaguely to his bruised body. "You need rest."
"I'm fine. Being with you is better than rest," he insisted, turning to me with a grateful nod. "Thank you again, Luna. Seriously."
"Go," I waved them off.
I watched them leave. I knew this feeling.
Years ago, I had been the one breathless from chasing someone who never slowed down.
I remembered standing under the large oak tree by the library, holding a thermos of soup I’d spent hours making, waiting for Daemon to finish his classes. I remembered the way my heart would race when I saw him, and the way it would plummet when he walked past me with his friends, barely acknowledging my existence.
The university hadn't changed, but I had. The girl who used to wait in the cold was dead.
I turned to head back to my bike, but a low, steady engine hum stopped me.
Across the street, parked in the shadows of a large elm, was a nondescript black sedan. The window was rolled down halfway.
Daemon sat in the driver's seat.