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Violet knew a mistake when she saw one, and right now, wearing this, appearing this way, was one. But then again, she had roommates who had literally ambushed her, wrestling her into submission with zero regard for her personal autonomy.

Lila and Daisy had done her hair, styling it like she was some royal debutante, while Ivy had conducted an impromptu photoshoot, making her strike a thousand different poses for pictures she insisted on posting on her Moonstagram.

That was the only reason they had arrived at the party so late.

At this point, Violet didn’t know which version of Ivy she preferred—the past sassy, jealous, territorial one, or this new overbearing, perfectionist Ivy who had apparently made it her personal project to refine her image.

It honestly wouldn’t surprise Violet if at breakfast tomorrow, Ivy started teaching her the "proper" way to hold a spoon.

And the thought of that was terrifying.

As they made their way through the party, the crowd unconsciously parted for them, as if they were an approaching storm no one wanted to get caught in.

But just as Violet was about to relax, a girl suddenly appeared out of nowhere, shoving a camera right in her face.

"The goddess bless our hearts—Violet! You are on fire tonight!"

Violet blinked, completely thrown off. "Excuse me, do I know you?"

She let out a sheepish laugh, clearly trying to cover her embarrassment. "Of course, you can’t know everybody. That would be way too much work for the Purple Storm, right?."

Before Violet could even process that, Lila leaned in, the human encyclopedia as always.

"That’s Nicole. She’s a blogger."

Violet nodded in understanding. That was all the cue Nicole needed. She wasn’t about to let this golden opportunity slip away.

"Tell me, Violet Purple, how much does your entire ensemble cost?"

"Excuse me?" A furrow formed between Violet’s brows. Even she didn’t know how much her outfit cost. So why should anyone else care?

Sensing the conversation was about to take a nosedive, her roommates tried to intervene, but before they could—

"Of course, she doesn’t know," a voice cut in, dripping with condescension.

"Because she didn’t buy it herself."

A hush fell over the crowd as Elsie Lancaster stepped forward, her heels clicking against the ground.

"The bitch has been leeching off Alaric Storm."

Oh. Here we go.

Even with the party still in full swing, nearly every pair of eyes in the vicinity had locked onto the confrontation between Violet and Elsie. There can’t be two queens ruling one kingdom. It was obvious now.

Holding Violet’s unfazed gaze, Elsie sneered. "Fate finally smiles on her, poor girl meets rich boy, and now she intends to suck him dry."

Nicole nearly vibrated with excitement, subtly adjusting the angle of her camera and capturing the moment in perfect, high-definition clarity.This was prime content and her blog was going to explode by morning.

Usually, Violet, however, wasn’t one for public petty squabbles. But then again, this bitch had been pushing her buttons for far too long.

And tonight? She was in the mood for a little trouble.

With an easy smirk, Violet tilted her head. "If that’s the case, then it’s an insult to Alaric if an outfit he bought for his girlfriend would render him broke."

A snicker slipped from Lila before she could stop it. Daisy pressed her lips together, barely containing her laughter, while Ivy maintained such a painfully straight face that it was obvious she was struggling to hold it in.

With the intention of teaching her a lesson, Elsie took a step forward before catching herself. Right. She was on camera. Still, her fury simmered beneath her veins, her embarrassment radiating off her in waves.

"You bitch—"

But Violet wasn’t done.

She took a deliberate step closer, standing toe-to-toe with Elsie. "I’m his girlfriend," she declared, her voice carrying a confidence that shut down any further protests.

"If Alaric doesn’t spend on me, who would he spend on then? You?"

Elsie visibly stiffened.

Violet scoffed. "Learn to mind your business, Elsie Lancaster. It would help your life."

And with that, Violet turned on her heel, her roommates falling into step beside her, the perfect entourage following their queen.

But as they walked away, Lila turned back and made a face at Elsie, sticking her tongue out like a child.

However, Elsie’s eyes flashed with pure rage, her wolf itching to surface at the insult.

Nobody told Lila, she immediately quickened her steps. She did not want to die tonight.

Even though Violet had the last word, her veins still burned with anger.

She was a strong, independent woman, and the idea that Elsie would paint her as some gold-digging social climber pissed her off to no end.

So when a passing server walked by with a tray of drinks, she snatched one without hesitation.

"Whoa—" Lila reached out to stop her, but Violet had already downed the drink in one go.

The girl told her as she took her own drink from the tray. "Drink like that, and you’ll be drunk faster."

Violet set her glass down with a sharp clink. "Don’t worry. I won’t be drinking anymore."

From Adele’s words at the hospital that day, something was going to happen tonight and she needed to have a clear head for it. She needed to be ready.

Violet turned to her friends, her expression firm. "Don’t get drunk. That’s an order."

It wasn’t just for Lila, but for Ivy and Daisy as well.

"Okay, mama," Ivy’s sassy side was back.

Violet rolled her eyes, her focus shifting to the party.

The momentary spotlight on her had faded, and the party had resumed like nothing had happened.

Good.

Now all she needed was to find Alaric, talk to him, and break things off before the night went any further.

But just as she spotted a familiar figure, someone called her name.

"Violet!"

She turned instinctively and smacked right into a wall. Well... not a wall, per set. A wall of muscle.

Violet lifted her gaze, blinking at the sheer presence towering over her.

Griffin Hale.

And suddenly, the breath was knocked clean out of her lungs.

He was wearing a black, vintage embroidered sleeveless tank, which meant his arms were fully exposed.

And holy hell, his arms.

Two corded ropes of muscle with veins running deliciously along the skin, and a peek of tattoos across his shoulders. Her gaze lowered, tracing the ink, but what really stole her attention was his hair.

Griffin had loosened his braids, and now his long, red hair cascaded effortlessly past his shoulders. It looked so well-kept, so meticulously cared for, it was enough to make any woman jealous.

Except there was a little problem.

Violet’s fingers were twitching with the need to sink her hands into all that silky, fiery perfection.