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Patrick stepped out of the Alpha King’s house, his spine ramrod straight, and every movement he made measured and careful. Not one flicker of emotion passed across his face even though inside, his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would leap out of his chest.

The cool night breeze caught the hem of his coat, but Patrick didn’t break stride. He walked briskly toward the black car waiting patiently for him at the curb. His driver as always hurried to open the door. Without sparing him a glance, Patrick ducked inside and settled into the back seat.

The moment the door clicked shut, the car rolled away from the Alpha king’s estate’s heavy security gates, pulling onto the broad road lined with old trees.

Still, Patrick didn’t allow himself to relax. His hands remained on his lap, every fiber of his being tensed and wired tight. He only let out a shaky breath once the mansion disappeared completely from view and they had driven several miles down the road.

He leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes briefly. That was close. Too close.

For a terrifying second during the meeting, Patrick had thought Elijah had figured it out. The Alpha King’s sharp gaze, the way his questions seemed to probe a little too deeply had nearly stolen the breath from his lungs.

But that was not the case. Elijah still trusted him. For now. If Elijah wanted him to investigate the composition of the drug, it meant he already had people working on tracking the source of Ignis. It was only a matter before Elijah knew what he had done.

Patrick opened his eyes, reaching into his coat for his phone. His fingers worked swiftly, dialing without hesitation. The line rang twice before it connected.

"Darling," Cynthia’s voice purred through the speaker, all silk and seduction. "How did the meeting go? Did he gobble you up yet?"

"This is no time for jokes," Patrick said tightly. "Elijah is onto us."

There was a beat of silence, and then a hiss from Cynthia.

"That damn fool Umal," she cursed, her voice losing its earlier velvet smoothness. "We should not have let him carry on such a sensitive mission."

Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose, his headache pounding harder.

"It’s too late for regrets. Asher got his hands on one of the doses and passed it to Elijah. That was how he found out."

Cynthia cursed again, fiercer this time.

"What do we do now?" she asked, her voice all business now.

Patrick stared blankly at the road unfurling ahead through the windshield.

"We move," he announced after the pause, forcing calm into his voice. "We move before Elijah finds out I’m the one responsible."

He took a slow breath, feeling the gravity of the next words he was about to utter settle on his tongue.

"Contact my family."

There was a sharp inhale from Cynthia on the other end.

"Patrick, are you sure?" she asked, almost cautiously. "You know what they think of you. They might not answer."

Patrick’s hands clenched into fists. Of course, he knew.

Even as a descendant of Gerald, the human general that rose against the werewolves, and yet, he had been branded a traitor.

They despised him for bending knee to Elijah, for working with the wolves rather than continuing the war. They thought him a disgrace.

But they didn’t know the truth.

They didn’t know the plan he had been building in secret, stone by bloody stone.

But soon, they would see. Soon, they would respect him.

He swallowed the fury clawing up his throat and said, his voice hard like stone, "Tell them I’ve discovered a weapon against the wolves. One that will bring the packs to their feet."

Silence hummed across the line for a moment. Then Cynthia said with certainty.

"All right, Patrick. I believe in you."

"Thank you for believing in me, Cynthia. I promise you will not regret this. We’d shape a better world for our people."

"I know my love, I know."

"Good bye."

"Good bye."

He ended the call.

Patrick stared at his reflection in the dark window, the weight of what he had just set into motion heavy on his chest.

This was it. There was no turning back now. The world would remember his name and he would be the one to strike fear into the heart of the mighty werewolves. He would fulfill the destiny his ancestors had bled for.

The heavens help him.

Back at Lunaris Academy.....

In Alaric’s lab, in the furnished room tucked within, Violet lay nestled in Alaric’s arms, their bodies tangled together.

She was wearing one of his oversized black shirts, the sleeves draping past her wrists, and panties beneath.

The fabric carried his scent, wrapping her in a cocoon of comfort and safety.

Alaric hadn’t asked questions when she came to him broken and hurting. He hadn’t pressed her to explain and simply held her tight until her heavy lids closed and sleep took her. Violet was grateful for it more than words could ever say.

However, late at night, unbeknownst to them, a tiny green snake slithered through the cracks of the lab entrance. It was no other than Roman Draven.

After the party hosted by his house, he had gone to Violet’s shack, expecting to find her, only to be met with an empty bed and the hollow ache of absence. Irritated but determined to find her, he tracked her scent like a bloodhound, and it had led him right to Alaric’s lab.

Once inside, the snake shifted. In seconds, Roman returned to his human form, and crouched silently by the door, her scent hitting him strongly like a blow.

Sweet. Warm. Violet.

He rose carefully, his bare feet soundless on the floor as he crept toward the room.

His lips curved into a sly grin when he saw them curled together on the bed.

So this is where you ran off to, my little flower.

Roman did not hesitate. He climbed into the bed with feline grace, his body barely making a dent on the mattress. His eyes gleamed mischievously as he leaned in, brushing his lips gently over Violet’s forehead, then her cheek, then down to the corner of her lips.

Violet stirred, a soft whimper slipping from her throat.

Roman’s hand moved to cup her face, his thumb grazing her bottom lip. Her sleepy eyes fluttered open, and the moment she saw him, a raw, hungry need flashed in her gaze. Without hesitation, she pulled him closer, their mouths crashing together in a kiss that was both greedy and desperate.

Roman growled low in his chest, deepening the kiss, tasting her.

His fingers slipped beneath the hem of Alaric’s shirt, tracing slow, tantalizing circles along her bare thigh, inching higher.

He found the delicate line of her panties and skimmed his fingers just under the waistband, making her shiver.

Violet arched instinctively into his touch, seeking more. The kiss grew hotter, more consuming, as his fingers explored the damp heat he found waiting for him.

Roman groaned, his body thrumming with satisfaction and he increased his pace. Unfortunately Alaric stirred and for a moment, everything froze.

Roman lifted his head, his hand pausing where it was. Alaric’s sleepy, stormy eyes opened, instantly narrowing when he registered the sight of Violet gasping softly beneath Roman’s touch, her body writhing for more.

Tension cracked like electricity in the room and for one terrifying second, Violet feared a fight would break out. But then Alaric’s gaze darkened, not with anger, but with something far more dangerous. Hunger.

"This is how you want it, huh?" Alaric rasped, his voice low and rough.

Before Violet could reply, Alaric leaned in and began to kiss along her shoulder, trailing up the curve of her neck, his lips sending sparks over her skin.

Taking that as cue, Roman continued where he stopped, his fingers teasing her clit, making her whimper. Then, to her shock, Alaric’s hand slid down, joining Roman’s between her thighs as he located her moist heat.

Together, they worked her body, Alaric’s fingers thrusting deep while Roman teased her sensitive bud. Violet felt like she was burning alive, the pleasure building higher and higher until she thought she might shatter apart.

Their mouths never left her, kissing her throat, her collarbone, her jaw and whispering dirty promises against her skin.

"Let go, Violet," Alaric whispered in her ear.

Roman nipped at her earlobe and murmured, "Come for us, my queen."

And she did.

Violet cried out, the sound torn from deep inside her chest, her body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure rocked through her. She buried her face into Roman’s chest to muffle her cries, but it was too late.

Both men held her through it, coaxing every aftershock out of her until she lay boneless between them, gasping for air, her body humming with afterglow.

Neither Alaric nor Roman moved away immediately. They stayed close, pressing tender kisses against her flushed skin.

Violet, dazed and overwhelmed, smiled like a fool. That was perfect.