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Violet’s plan was simple. Once the three hours were up, she would sneak up to her bed and cuddle up to Alaric, sleeping beside him.

Once he woke up in the morning with barely any recollection of what happened, she would spin a suitable tale to cover it up.

He wouldn’t suspect a thing. She would make sure of it.

So they all sat on the seats in the living room, streaming through some videos on their phones and chatting amongst themselves just to avoid falling asleep.

As soon as the three hours were up, Lila happily retrieved the white paper, which had oddly turned a worn-out brown as if its essence —or whatever bad luck it possessed—had been stripped.

"I don’t honestly support this, but if you say so," Lila said about her idea of sharing a bed with Alaric Storm. Then she placed a kiss on Violet’s cheek and bid her goodnight.

"Good night, Violet," Daisy and Ivy also waved before disappearing into their various rooms.

It was already one in the morning, and they needed enough rest to continue with their plans tomorrow.

Tomorrow, being Thursday, was the last day they had to discover whatever secret Elsie was hiding.

In one word, they had to push Elsie harder—hard enough to force her to crack and reveal whatever skeletons she was hiding in her closet.

With a sigh, Violet headed to her room as well, stopping short at the sight of Alaric on the bed. It felt so surreal that she crept to the side and just stayed there, hand propping her head as she stared at him like some creep.

He looked so innocent, like an angel in his sleep, and not the devil who had ruthlessly torn her apart the other day.

"I’m so sorry," Violet whispered honestly, then crept into bed, cuddling against him.

She didn’t need to pull the covers over them, not when his body was warm enough. Violet took in the ozone scent of his thunder, the smell so alluring it dragged her straight into sleep.

Violet honestly had no idea how long she’d been sleeping before her eyes suddenly snapped open, her brows furrowed. Something wasn’t right. There was a strange urgency, an unsettling shift in her spirit, and a tugging sensation that had her climbing out of bed and leaving the room.

What the fuck was she doing? Or going? Violet had no idea, aside from the fact that something was pushing her to go. Go where?! She didn’t know, and yet, her feet were moving as if they had a mind of their own.

Violet didn’t even bother to put on slippers. She left the shack barefoot, not even closing the door behind her. Her entire body seemed to follow one command: Go.

She tried to resist. She ordered herself to stop this madness, but nothing happened. She was not in control here.

Not even the darkness, nor the ominous hooting of owls and other nocturnal creatures could stop her.

Violet didn’t stop, not even when stone pebbles bit into her feet.

Not even when her skin prickled and the hairs along the back of her neck stood on end, as she sensed what felt like a thousand eyes tracking her.

She knew inwardly it was the wolves patrolling the academy grounds at night. Yet even the fear of those scary creatures didn’t halt her pace. She was simply on autopilot.

Violet lost track of time while trekking to God knew where, until eventually, she saw it.

The West House.

Oh fuck. No!

She couldn’t go in there. Not just because it was the house of the mindfucker, Asher Nightshade, but because she still bore the status of rogue, and walking in there was asking for trouble.

At the same time, Violet wondered if this was Asher’s doing. If he had somehow gotten into her head again—despite his promises—then she was going to give him a piece of her mind.

Still, her feet pulled her along.

She walked up to the West House, passed through the doors, and climbed the stairs until she reached the fourth floor.

Throughout her time in the West House, Violet had never known which room belonged to Asher, but somehow she stood in front of a particular door with absolute conviction that it was his.

Then, without her consent, her hand turned the knob, and she walked in, this time, thankfully, closing the door behind her.

Even in the dark, she could feel the enormity of the room. Yet Violet’s gaze was immediately drawn toward the figure on the bed. She could hear him. Feel him.

He was grunting in his sleep like someone having a terrible dream.

Violet’s heart ached, as if she could feel whatever pain he was going through.

Then again, her feet moved of their own accord and she found herself climbing into the bed.

She pulled up next to him, wrapping her smaller body around his, nestling her nose into his skin instinctively, offering comfort.

Except the moment their skin made contact, Violet gasped.

She was pulled into a vision.

What the fuck was going on here?

Where was she?

Violet asked herself that very question as she found herself standing in front of a strange room. She heard arguments from within and couldn’t fight her curiosity. She pulled the knob and stepped inside the room.

Two men were in there, engaged in a heated conversation. Strangely, they didn’t seem to notice her which filled her with the confidence to walk further in.

"Of all the gifts the Moon Goddess chose to give him, it had to be mind control?

! She gave him power he could use to challenge me!

To unseat me before my time is due, after all my sacrifices!

" yelled one of the men, with dirty blonde hair and sharp features that might’ve been handsome if not for the terrifying scowl on his face.

Who was this, and why did it feel like they were talking about Asher?

"No matter what, he’s your son, Henry. If you control him rightly, then your fears will never come to pass," the other man said to him.

Huh?

Violet’s mind reeled. That was Asher’s father.

How?

Why was she even seeing this?

Then suddenly, her attention was drawn to the door, and she caught sight of a boy, maybe five years old, peering out from behind it. But it wasn’t until her gaze locked onto his slitted eyes that it hit Violet like a freight train.

Oh fuck.

This was no vision.

She was in Asher’s memories.

Moon help her.