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The early morning air was cool and crisp as Violet slipped out of the East House, her footsteps silent as she left the East House.

The sky outside was a deep navy, hinting at the first light of dawn but far from breaking yet. It might have been four in the morning or something, Violet didn’t know. She didn’t have her phone with her. She lost it during the incident. All she knew was that she couldn’t wait any longer.

With such chaos yesterday, the Oracle must have already drafted her next explosive article, and Violet had no intention of giving her any more juicy weapons against her. She hated how that damned gossip seemed to have ears everywhere, capturing details even she didn’t remember happening.

If Griffin heard her moving about earlier, he made no effort to stop her or come see her out, and for that, she was grateful.

Violet didn’t know how to handle goodbyes, especially after such a disturbing event.

At the moment, her relationship with the giant Alpha was complicated.

She hated him yet didn’t hate him so much at the same time.

Violet needed to process these new developments.

Still, as she walked through the East House alone that morning, it felt like walk of shame. She shouldn’t feel guilty—nothing happened last night with Griffin—but it lingered, gnawing at her annoyingly.

The East House hallways were mercifully empty, and Violet managed to leave without encountering a single soul.

By the time she arrived at the West House, she let out a relieved sigh.

The door was not locked, thankfully, and she was able to slip inside quickly, her mind focused solely on making it to her room unnoticed.

But the moment she turned to face the foyer, her breath hitched in her throat. Standing just a few meters away, leaning casually against the wall as if he’d been waiting all night, was none other than Asher Fucking Nightshade.

The master puppeteer and the reason she was in this shit in this first place.

Violet’s heart lurched in her chest as her eyes locked onto his piercing gaze... oh, he was wearing his glasses. Yet that didn’t diminish his dangerous aura one bit.

His presence was overwhelming, as always, his long dark hair disheveled just enough to look maddeningly perfect, his expression unreadable but far from kind. He exuded the kind of power that made the air heavy around him, suffocating and alluring all at once.

Violet gulped, her throat suddenly dry as fear gripped her. Of all the mornings, of all the places... why here? Why now?

But then, she wasn’t one to back down, especially not after everything he had done to her. Anger bubbled up inside her, washing away her hesitation, and filling her with reckless confidence.

Straightening her posture, Violet strode forward, stopping right in front of him. Their eyes locked, two stubborn individuals locked in a silent battle of wills, neither of them willing to yield.

"Did you get in my head again? Is that how you knew I was coming?" Violet accused him with a sharp voice.

Asher arched a brow. "I told you, I don’t read minds."

"But you could have influenced my thoughts," she snapped. "You already have a grip on my mind and might have tugged at the wirings in my head, manipulating me to arrive here at this exact moment."

Asher chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly smug.

"Perhaps, Violet Purple, you flatter yourself. You’re simply too predictable.

I knew you’d be too proud to return to the West House in the morning when everyone’s up, chattering and gossiping.

This hour seemed perfect for a quiet escape, so I waited. And, as expected, you didn’t fail me."

Violet’s jaw clenched and with her glare cutting, she said, "What do you want from me? Griffin already told me you’re forbidden from messing with my head again."

"Yes," Asher admitted, his smirk faltering only slightly. "I’m forbidden to do it anymore. A disappointment, truly. I had so many plans for us, my little purple queen." He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of her hair.

Violet swatted his hand away with a hiss. "Don’t touch me. And don’t call me that."

Unfazed, Asher tutted. "However, all hope is not lost. I can still get in your head. You just have to ask me to."

For a moment, Violet stared at him, dumbfounded. Then she scoffed, her voice laced with outrage. "What makes you think I’d ever let you near my mind again? Do you think I’m as twisted as you?"

"Curiosity," Asher replied smoothly, his tone dripping with dark amusement. "It’s a small yet heavy motivator. Moreover, you might try to hide it, but I see the darkness in you too, Violet Purple."

He stepped closer, the space between them vanishing until their chests brushed. Shivers ran down Violet’s spine, but she masked her reaction, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Asher’s voice dropped to a seductive whisper.

"Your morals tell you what I did was wrong, but deep down, you loved it. I see it, the darkness, that’s what drew me to you in the first place.

You don’t feel sorry for what happened. If anything, you’ve had a taste, and now you hunger for more. .. crave for more..."

For a fleeting moment, Violet felt the pull of his words, their intensity threatening to ensnare her. Their eyes locked, his full of promises she didn’t want to consider, hers defiant yet wavering.

But then, she abruptly broke the spell. "Your days of manipulating me are over. If that’s all, I’ll be on my way."

Asher blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He hadn’t expected her to resist, let alone push back. But as Violet turned to leave, he reached out and grabbed her hand, his grip firm but not forceful.

Violet glared at his hand, her voice icy. "What?"

Instead of responding, Asher placed something in her palm. Violet’s eyes widened as she looked down to see her phone.

"We are not over, my little queen," Asher said in a gentle yet chilling tone. "This is just the beginning. Do have a lovely day."

With that, he released her hand and strode away, his confidence radiating as if he already knew he’d won.

Violet stood there, staring after him with an exasperated look, clutching her phone tightly.

Whatever game this was. It was getting more dangerous.