Chapter 55
Violet's POV:
The evening air carried a crisp bite as I stood outside Moonlight Theater, adjusting the collar of my leather jacket while watching couples stream through the illuminated entrance. Dylan appeared precisely at seven, carrying two paper cups that released wisps of steam into the December cold.
"Caramel latte, extra shot, no whip," he said, offering one cup with a smile that seemed genuine. "And these are from that chocolatier near campus—the sea salt caramels you mentioned." I accepted both, surprised he'd remembered such a casual comment from weeks ago.
"You remembered all that?"
"Of course. That's how dating is supposed to work."
The musical was excellent—a modern reimagining with soaring vocals and intricate choreography. When the final curtain fell, Dylan suggested dinner at "where all the local wolves go for the best wings and craft beer."
The drive took us through forest outskirts toward Pinewood's edge, Dylan keeping up easy conversation the whole way. Wings & Hops was exactly as advertised—exposed brick, neon signs, and the rich scent of fried food and hops.
We claimed a booth near the back. When Dylan returned from the restroom, he pulled out his phone as the server approached with our beers. "I'll get this," he said. I started to protest, but then his screen caught my eye for just a fraction of a second. A notification banner flashed across the top, the sender name clearly visible: Connor.
The world seemed to tilt slightly, pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. I thought of what Lily had said weeks ago about Connor blaming me for his breakup, warning me to be careful of retaliation. I'd been arrogant enough to assume Connor would come at me directly if he wanted revenge, never imagining he'd recruit an accomplice to get close to me first, to maneuver me into exactly this kind of vulnerable position.
The food arrived quickly, but my appetite had vanished entirely, replaced by the queasy awareness that I needed to get out of here without tipping Dylan off that I'd caught on.
I picked at the fries, took a single wing to maintain appearances, and reached for my beer. Ten minutes later, the first wave of dizziness hit, subtle at first but intensifying with frightening speed until the room began to tilt and my limbs felt heavy and unresponsive.
I set down my beer with deliberate care, watching my hand shake, and looked up to find Dylan staring at me with cold calculation. "Something wrong?" he asked, his voice stripped of its earlier warmth.
"What did you do?" The words came out slurred, and I tried to push myself up from the booth only to have my legs give out, sending me crashing back into the seat.
"Don't bother trying to fight it. It's a sedative that dampens your strength." Dylan's smile was all wrong now, twisted and satisfied. My phone buzzed on the table—Daemon's name flashing across the screen. I lunged for it with fingers that wouldn't quite obey, but Dylan was faster, snatching the device and declining the call before I could reach it.
"None of that now. We wouldn't want anyone interrupting before we've had our conversation, would we?" He stood, moving around to my side of the booth, and I tried to push him away, but my arms felt like they were moving through water, weak and ineffective.
"Help," I tried to call out, but the word came out as barely a whisper, and Dylan was already hauling me to my feet, one arm around my waist as he guided me toward the door. "My girlfriend had a bit too much to drink," he said cheerfully to the server. "I'm just going to get her home to sleep it off."
---
When I came to, we were at an abandoned factory complex on Riverside's industrial edge, all rusted metal and broken windows silhouetted against the night sky. Dylan hauled me out of the car. I heard footsteps approaching from the shadows, saw the glow of a cigarette before I saw the face of the man holding it.
"Violet Goldcrest," Connor Hayes said, smoke curling from his lips as he smiled with vicious satisfaction. "Surprise."
I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't form properly, coming out as incoherent mumbling that made Connor's smile widen. "Look at you. The high and mighty Luna, finally brought down to where she belongs. You know how long I've been waiting for this? Ever since your alpha fired me, ever since Lily dumped me because of your interference, I've been planning exactly how to make you pay. You cost me everything. My job, my girl, my reputation in the pack. So now I'm going to take everything from you, starting with that pretty face."
The first slap came fast and hard, snapping my head to the side with enough force to split my lip, the taste of copper flooding my mouth. I couldn't dodge, couldn't raise my hands to protect myself as Connor hit me again, his fist connecting with my stomach in a blow that drove all the air from my lungs.
Dylan grabbed my hair, yanking my head back so Connor could land another blow to my face, and I tasted more blood, felt my vision swim with pain.
"Don't kill her yet," Dylan said, his earlier warmth completely absent. "We still need her conscious enough to transfer the money."
They dragged me deeper into the factory complex until we reached what must have once been a storage room, empty except for a metal chair bolted to the floor and a single flickering bulb overhead. Connor shoved me into the chair and Dylan produced zip ties, securing my wrists behind the chair back and my ankles to the chair legs with swift efficiency.
Connor crouched in front of me, pulling my phone from Dylan's pocket and holding it up to my face until it unlocked with facial recognition. "Here's how this is going to work. You're going to transfer me fifty thousand dollars right now, or Dylan here is going to have some fun with you before we dump your body in the river. Your choice."
I forced my eyes to focus, my mind to work through the drugged haze, buying time because time was all I had. "Single transfer limit," I slurred. "Five thousand max. Need multiple transactions." Connor's eyes narrowed, but he seemed to accept this, pulling up my main account and starting the process.
The drug's effects were starting to fade fractionally and I could feel sensation returning to my extremities in painful pins and needles. Outside the room, I suddenly heard voices, footsteps echoing through the abandoned factory, and my heart leaped with desperate hope.
"Violet?" Celeste's voice called out, distant but unmistakable. "Violet, are you here?"
I opened my mouth and screamed with everything I had left. "I'm here!" The words barely escaped before Connor's hand clamped over my face with bruising force, his other hand finding my throat and squeezing hard enough to cut off my air entirely. "Make a sound again and I'll snap your neck," he hissed in my ear.
The footsteps came closer, and I heard Daemon's voice now too, calling my name.
They were leaving, moving away from where Connor held me captive, and I felt despair crash over me in a suffocating wave. Connor kept his hand over my mouth until the voices faded to silence, then released me with a shove that made my head crack against the chair back.
He went back to my phone, but his hands were shaking now, and when his own phone rang with Lily's name lighting up the screen, he fumbled it in his haste to decline, accidentally hitting accept instead. The drug had faded enough now that I could move, could think, and I seized the opportunity before logic could stop me.
"Daemon!" I screamed with everything I had left, my voice cracking but carrying. "Daemon, help me! I'm in the abandoned factory!"
Dylan lunged forward, his hand connecting with my face in a vicious slap that made my ears ring and filled my mouth with blood, but it was too late, and I heard the immediate response—running footsteps, shouts, Daemon's voice roaring my name with a fury that shook the walls. Connor swore viciously, dropping my phone, but he never got the chance to run.
The door exploded inward with a deafening crash, the metal tearing from its hinges under the force of Daemon's kick, and he burst into the room like a force of nature, his eyes pure red, his Alpha presence filling the space with suffocating intensity. Connor tried to run, but Daemon caught him by the throat, lifting him off his feet and slamming him against the concrete wall hard enough to crack it.
Evan appeared in the doorway, removing his glasses and turning to Dylan, who'd frozen against the far wall in terror. Evan's fist connected with Dylan's jaw in a precise strike that sent him sprawling. Celeste appeared behind Evan, her face white with shock, and Lucian caught her arm, pulling her back.
---
I woke to the sterile smell of antiseptic and the steady beep of monitors, my body aching in ways that suggested extensive damage.
"Oh thank God." Lily's voice, thick with tears, and I turned my head to find her sitting beside the hospital bed, her eyes red and swollen. "Vi, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. If I'd never dated Connor, none of this would have happened."
"Not your fault," I managed, my voice coming out hoarse and painful. "Connor made his own choices. You were just another one of his victims." The door opened and Sienna rushed in, followed by Jade, both of them carrying fruit baskets and wearing expressions of relief mixed with fury.
"That absolute bastard," Sienna said without preamble. "If Daemon and Evan hadn't already beaten him half to death, I'd do it myself. Do you know what they were planning?" I shook my head slightly, wincing at the movement, and Jade perched on the edge of the bed carefully, avoiding my injuries.
"According to what the police got out of Dylan, they were going to take the money and then throw you in the river. They had it all planned out—they were going to run to Shadowmoon territory afterward, disappear into that lawless mess where no one asks questions."
"How did you find me?" I asked, looking between them.
"Daemon called you first, but you didn't answer," Lily explained. "So he called Sienna, and she told him you'd gone to see a musical with Dylan. He tracked your phone to that restaurant in Pinewood, then pulled the security footage showing Dylan carrying you out."
The door opened again, and this time it was Evan who entered, carrying a medical chart and wearing his professional doctor expression. He checked my vitals quickly, his fingers careful as they probed the bruises on my abdomen, his expression darkening when I winced at the pressure.
"You have a minor concussion and multiple soft tissue contusions. The intracranial bleeding should resolve itself in three to four days. But you need complete rest during that time. No strenuous activity, no emotional upheaval."
"I know," I said quietly. Evan lingered by the bedside for a moment, his eyes searching my face with an intensity that made me uncomfortable, before he nodded and left the room with deliberate strides.
The moment the door closed, Sienna leaned in with a knowing grin. "Girl. Tell me I'm not crazy. Did Evan just look at you like that? Because..."
"Stop talking," I said. "He was just being professional." But from the doorway, I caught Evan's silhouette frozen just outside, his shoulders rigid. Then he was gone.