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Chapter fifty-seven

GRAY

Everything inside me is on fire as I push through the halls, my boots pounding against the polished floors. The party noise fades into the background, replaced by the roaring in my ears. I can’t believe it’s him. Out of everyone, the one client we trusted above all, the one person who never gave us a reason to doubt. My blood is boiling.

When I hit the living room, I spot him. Nolan, our so-called best client, trying to slip out unnoticed. He’s quick, I’ll give him that, but I’m faster. I’m on him before he makes it out the door, catching him just a few feet away from his car. His hand is on the handle, and for a second, he freezes. I don’t give him a chance to run as my hand slams into the car door, blocking his escape.

Puma and Hawk appear behind me, their presence a solid wall of backup. I don’t need to look to know they’re just as furious as I am. Banks can’t be far off, but this is mine. I’m taking this one.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” My voice is a low snarl, but the rage in it makes Nolan flinch. His shoulders tense, and then he turns around, trying for some weak version of his usual charm. It falls flat.

“Gray, come on,” he says, letting out a bitter laugh that makes my stomach churn. “It’s not personal.”

“Bullshit.” I shove him roughly against the car, my hand fisting in his shirt. “How is this not personal? You’ve been in our house. You’ve eaten our food, drank our whiskey. Hell, we trusted you.” Just thinking of all the hoops we had to jump through, the pictures Marion sent Violet to threaten her, the terror our women lived through—it was all just a game to this man while he was hiring me to rearrange his goddamn dining halls.

Nolan’s smile twists into something bitter. “Maybe that was your first mistake.”

I want to hit him, but I hold back. The anger rolling off Puma and Hawk behind me tells me they’re ready to jump in, but I need answers. “Why, Nolan?” I demand. “Why would you do this to us?”

He shrugs, like he’s talking about something as minor as a parking ticket. “It was time. The Ashford pack has been riding high for too long. No one stays on top forever, Gray. And let’s face it, you guys were due for a fall.”

“So that’s it? Jealousy? You’re pissed because we succeeded?”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” Nolan sneers. “The damage is done. Your reputation—your so-called perfect pack—will never recover. You’ll see.”

I watch Puma rear back, his fist slamming into the car just beside Nolan’s head with enough force to leave a dent. The sound reverberates through the driveway as Nolan flinches hard, his shoulders slumping as the mask of smugness slips off his face for the first time. The crowd gathering at the front of the house gasps, whispers cutting through the tension. This isn’t good. It’s all wrong. This could spin out of control, but Puma doesn’t give a damn.

“Try again,” Puma growls, his voice low and dangerous. The look on his face—pure, unfiltered rage—sends a chill up my spine, even though I’m not the one on the receiving end. “Because I happen to know that you didn’t work for shit. We both come from money. We grew up together but we took very different routes and that wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

Nolan swallows hard, his jaw tightening. The guy is slick, I’ll give him that. He’s got a cockroach’s survival instinct, always wriggling out of tight spots. But right now, with Puma pinning him down and the rest of us standing like a brick wall behind him, Nolan’s charm is useless.

There’s something that feels uneasy about this but I don’t get the chance to hash it out as a sharp jasmine scent comes barreling toward us. Lance is right behind her, looking flustered as hell, holding Sofie close as if that’s going to stop the inevitable train wreck. Whatever argument had been bubbling up between them isn’t even a footnote now—Violet’s focus is locked on Nolan.

I don’t know how she does it, how she makes herself seem so much taller than she really is, her presence so sharp that it cuts through the air before she’s even spoken. She stops right in front of him, hands on her hips, her gaze drilling into him with such force that I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost.

“You bastard,” she says, voice steady but low enough that it cuts like a knife. “You’re a lowlife piece of shit for trying to ruin a family over your own greed. All of this—all of it—would’ve probably flown under the radar if the fucking prints Marion left weren’t still fucking wet .”

Nolan has the nerve to laugh. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were an Alpha,” he sneers. His grin is crooked, a blend of condescension and something almost… amused? The arrogance dripping off him is enough to make me want to snap at him myself, but this isn’t my fight anymore. This is Violet’s moment, and she’s owning every damn second of it.

She squares her shoulders, her voice dropping even lower. “I’m not an Alpha, but I have people to protect. And that’s all that matters.”

The crowd’s murmurs grow louder, buzzing like flies around us. Nolan’s smug grin doesn’t falter. He shrugs as if her words bounce right off him. “Well, isn’t that noble? Shame it won’t make a difference. From what I heard, your fearless little tryst with Marion didn’t exactly pan out the way you hoped, did it?”

A flicker of pain shoots through her expression before that fierce look is back on her face. “He’s in jail and he’ll probably sing like a canary if it gets him out.”

His lips twitch and I can’t tell if he’s still being smug or the sliver of fear flickering in his eyes is real. Whatever it is, I’m just pissed that this is only the beginning of the end. As much as I want this to be an open and shut case where Nolan’s taken in and we never hear about this bullshit again, I know it won’t be.

And then the fucking Alpha grins like he’s holding some card we don’t understand before lunging toward Violet. I’m not sure what he was trying to do but Puma and I move as one. We slam him back, his body hitting the door with enough force to rattle it in its frame. I can feel the tension in Puma’s shoulders, his muscles tight as steel as he holds Nolan pinned, his teeth bared like he’s one second away from sinking them in. I’m not much better—my grip’s so tight I can feel the bastard’s pulse beneath my hands, fast and erratic like he knows he’s cornered.

Someone yelling our names cuts through the haze but it isn’t until one of the detectives approaches that I let go. “Alright, gentleman, I think the show’s over.” I twist around to see Detective Grayson moseying up like he’s watching an actual show. “As entertaining as this little display is,” he says dryly, “I think we can all agree it’s time to let the authorities handle it.”

Nolan snarls something under his breath, but the detective ignores him, looking pointedly at Puma and me. “I did see him try to attack your Beta, though. Not exactly a bright move on his part.”

Puma’s growl vibrates through the air and for a second, I think he’s going to ignore the detective entirely and just finish what Nolan started. But then he exhales, a short, sharp sound, and steps back. I don’t let go right away, my hands still clenched in Nolan’s shirt, my knuckles white. Detective Grayson looks at me, one brow raised, and adds, “That said, a well-placed punch or three might just teach him not to try it again.”

I can’t help it. A laugh bursts out of me as I loosen my grip just enough to let Nolan sag against the door. “Gladly,” I say, and the look on Nolan’s face—somewhere between rage and fear—makes it worth it.