Chapter 215 Chapter 215

Chapter 215 Chapter 215
Violet

I let out a gasp, my hands flying to cover my mouth as terror flooded through me.
"Your... your eyes," I said, my voice trembling so badly I could barely form the words.
Elijah looked down immediately, his shoulders tensing as he took several deep breaths. 
When he looked back up at me, he was rubbing at his eyes slightly, like something had irritated them.
“Probably got dust in them” He mumbled, still rubbing them.
“No, they looked….”I trailed off, unsure what to even say to him.
"What about them?" His tone was casual, almost dismissive, and when he opened his eyes fully, they were normal. Just the dark brown I'd come to know so well, no trace of that burning red iris or the pitch black void.
I blinked in confusion, my mind scrambling to make sense of what I'd just seen. Had I imagined it? Was my exhausted, stressed brain conjuring things that weren't there?
"I... nothing," I fumbled, feeling foolish and uncertain.
Elijah continued as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't just confessed to wanting me near him every day, as if he hadn't called himself a monster for caging me here. 
His voice was measured and professional again, discussing work protocols and design timelines.
Then he stopped himself mid-sentence with a light shake of his head, like he was clearing away cobwebs.
"I guess you're probably tired and need to rest," he said, and there was something almost gentle in his tone. "Do you wish to take a few days off?"
I was still staring at him, my mind trying to reconcile what I'd witnessed, my brain desperately searching for a logical answer. 
Was I going mad? Was the stress and lack of sleep finally breaking me?
I shook my head. "No, I need to keep working."
"Perhaps you should go out with friends then," Elijah suggested, his hands sliding into his pockets in a gesture that looked almost nervous. "Take some time to relax. Clear your head away from all this."
"I'm fine," I said, but the words felt hollow even to my own ears.
I turned slowly and walked toward the door, each step feeling heavier. My hand reached for the doorknob, but something made me pause and turn back to look at him one more time.
His wounded arm caught my attention, the one with those terrible claw marks. He noticed my gaze and quickly moved his hand behind his back, hiding the evidence of whatever had hurt him.
"Goodnight, Violet," he said softly.
The words felt final somehow, like a dismissal and a plea all at once.
I grabbed my bag and left his office without another word, my mind spinning with questions I couldn't answer and fears I couldn't name.
The elevator ride down felt endless. I watched the numbers descend, my reflection staring back at me from the polished doors. I looked haunted with dark circles under my eyes, pale skin and slightly disheveled hair from running my hands through it repeatedly.
I looked like someone who was falling apart.
The parking garage was mostly empty at this hour, my footsteps echoing off the concrete as I made my way to my car. I fumbled with my keys, dropping them once before finally getting the door unlocked.
The drive home was a blur of streetlights and traffic signals, my mind too occupied with replaying everything that had happened. 
The black car passed me on the highway like usual but tonight I was too exhausted to care, too overwhelmed by everything else to add paranoia to the mix.
When I finally pulled into my pack’s driveway, I saw the lights on in the kitchen. Mom was awake, waiting for me like she always did when I worked late.
I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself before going inside. I didn't have the energy to lie convincingly tonight.
"Violet!" Mom appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, her face lighting up when she saw me. "I made your favorite dish. Let me just heat it up for you."
"Thanks, Mom," I managed, setting my bag down by the door and following her into the kitchen.
She bustled around, reheating the food while keeping up a steady stream of chatter about her day, some idle gossip she had overheard. I sat at the kitchen table and let her words wash over me, not really listening but grateful for the normalcy of it.
When she set the plate in front of me, I realized I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten a proper meal. My stomach should have been growling, but instead I just felt numb.
I picked up my fork and forced myself to eat. The food was delicious, perfectly seasoned and cooked with the kind of care only a mother could manage. But it tasted like ash in my mouth, every bite an effort to chew and swallow.
"How was work, honey?" Mom asked, settling into the chair across from me with her own plate.
"Fine," I said automatically. "Busy."
"And your new boss? Is he treating you well?"
The question made my throat tighten. "Yeah. He's... he's fine."
Mom studied my face, and I could see her cataloging all the signs of stress and exhaustion. "You look tired, sweetheart. Are you getting enough sleep?"
"I'm okay, Mom. Just adjusting to the new job."
She didn't look convinced, but thankfully she didn't push. 
I forced myself to finish the entire plate even though each bite felt like a monumental effort. Mom beamed when she saw the empty dish, clearly pleased that she'd gotten me to eat.
"There's more if you want seconds," she offered, already starting to rise.
"No, thank you. I'm full." I stood quickly, carrying my plate to the sink. "I'm exhausted, Mom. I think I'm going to head to bed early."
"Of course, honey." She came over and kissed my forehead, her hand gentle as it smoothed my hair back. "Sleep well. Things will look better in the morning."
I wished I could believe that.
I trudged to my room, not bothering to change out of my work clothes. I just kicked off my shoes, set my phone on the nightstand, and collapsed onto the bed face-first.
Sleep claimed me almost immediately, dragging me down into darkness so complete it felt like drowning.
And then somehow I found myself dressed in clothes I'd never worn. The bodice was tight, the skirts long and heavy, everything in shades of deep burgundy and black.
I was running.
The fear in my heart felt visceral. My breath came in panicked gasps, my legs burning with exertion as I fled down stone corridors lit by flickering torches.
This place was familiar and foreign all at once. High archways soared overhead and tapestries depicting wolves and battles hung from the walls. 
The floor beneath my feet was cold stone, with faint lanterns casting dim lights all around.
I realized I was in a castle, though I'd never been in one in my waking life. It was beautifully haunting but I had no time to marvel at its architecture because behind me, I could hear them.