Page 303

"This had got to be a joke," Violet and Irene said at the same time in disbelief as they stared at the shocking scene before them.

Unlike Elsie’s stiff, etiquette-obsessed Luncheon, the men were clearly having the time of their lives.

The guys had arranged their vibrant bash on the East House lawn and it was jaw-dropping. While it didn’t boast the pomp and lavish excess of Elsie’s setup, the atmosphere was so effortlessly fun and lively, such that Irene and Violet felt like crying. They had clearly wasted their time at Elsie’s.

The funniest part was that Irene had stormed in, probably ready to drag her son out by the ear, but now, she was utterly speechless.

There was a whole roasted cow positioned upright over a spit, its body glistening from the heat and low flames licking beneath it.

Parts of the meat had already been carved, the remaining flesh still sizzling under the fire.

Just beside it, a long tent had been set up where students took turns serving slices of the meat.

The air was thick with the mouthwatering scent of grilled beef. Violet turned to see Irene swallow hard, clearly salivating at the sight. She knew werewolves loved meat, it was practically a staple in their diet, and it seemed even a woman like Irene couldn’t resist the allure.

A lineup of students stood behind various cooking stations, their tools clanking as they grilled, fried, seared, and seasoned the meat in different creative styles from spicy skewers to sweet-glazed cuts.

Around them, both students and their visiting male family members milled about, laughing, chatting, and clinking paper cups of punch as they waited their turn.

It was loud, colorful, and almost festive than the Luncheon even though there was still the ever-present tension of competition and class lines.

However, that was only the beginning because all around them, eveyone was clearly having fun.

Just ahead of them, a lively axe-throwing competition was underway.

Targets had been carefully lined up against tree trunks, each painted with bold rings of red, white, and blue.

Both students and visiting parents took turns hurling their axes and aiming for the bullseye to earn points for accuracy.

Cheers erupted every time a blade landed dead center, and even louder groans followed when there was near misses.

On the other side of the lawn, a group of werewolves had gathered for what might be the most ridiculous, but surprisingly competitive event of the day: a howling challenge.

The goal was simple and it was to see who could let out the deepest, most powerful howl. It was loud, silly, yet unforgettable.

None of the Alphas joined in which gave the younger and lower-ranked wolves a chance to show off.

Everyone knew Alphas had the strongest howls, so with them sitting this one out, it felt like a fun free-for-all.

Some wolves tried to make their howl sound deeper by growling first while others struck tilted their heads so far back it was a miracle their necks didn’t snap.

Yes, it was silly, but it was the kind of silly that people loved.

It warmed Violet’s heart to think that Griffin had poured his heart into this plan, making sure the occasion was special and meaningful for both the human and werewolf fathers alike.

Even though he was currently in trouble.

No matter how tempting the occasion, it seemed Irene hadn’t let go of her anger and was still trying to locate her son.

They passed a group of students, likely werewolves, who were oiled up, flexing their biceps and showing off their abs in a hilarious show of impressing the parents.

It was vanity, since muscles alone could not win approval or secure an alliance.

But it was fun for the older men, especially the humans, who were impressed by their sheer strength.

Of course, no party would be complete without a drinking contest. This time, it was between the parents, and the students cheered loudly as their fathers went head-to-head. It was during that lively moment that Violet spotted Asher sitting alone in the corner, quietly sipping from his cup.

Her heart ached at the sight. Why was he always by himself? Just thinking about their argument made her feel even worse. As if sensing her presence, he turned, and their eyes met instantly.

Even with his sunglasses on, the connection was intense so much so that Violet felt her stomach flip.

There was always something strange about the bond between them.

It was as if they could really see each other, not just on the surface, but deeper.

He could see her pain, her truth. And she could see his.

Still, Violet had to look away and hurry after Irene. She would find Asher later, once everything else was dealt with.

Violet finally understood why it had been so hard to find Griffin Hale. The guy was locked in an intense arm wrestling showdown with Roman Draven.

A ring of students and parents had gathered around them, cheering, whistling, and even placing playful bets on who would win. With the mix of scents in the air, it was no wonder Irene hadn’t been able to track her son down easily.

When the crowd noticed them approaching, they parted just enough to let them through, and that was when Violet got a full view of the scene.

Griffin and Roman were shirtless, their torsos fully exposed. Every muscle flexed under the strain, arms trembling as sweat glistened on their skin. The tension between their locked hands made their veins pop, their bodies gleaming like they’d stepped out of a sports magazine.

Violet blinked hard.

The scene was so hot, that her thoughts began to wander. What would it feel like to be caught between both men? To have their hands on her? She didn’t even realize she was salivating until Irene’s voice

cut through her fantasy.

"Close your mouth, Violet. I’m still standing right here."

Violet’s face flushed. Gods, had she been ogling someone’s son right in front of them? That was mortifying.

At that moment, Griffin sensed her presence and looked up. Unfortunately, the distraction was all Roman needed and he slammed Griffin’s hand down onto the table.

Cheers erupted around them as Roman’s packmates whooped in celebration.

Arion, who had been cheering his son from the side, let out a dramatic groan, clearly disappointed. It was obvious Griffin had the upper hand, but Violet’s arrival had cost him the win.

Griffin threw her a sheepish smile but it didn’t last long because his eyes met his mother’s stern gaze instead.

Irene didn’t speak. She simply raised one hand and gestured with a finger in a silent but clear command:

Come. Here.