CHAPTER 538: WHAT HAPPENED AT THE PINE LODGE

Roman immediately tugged Violet into his side, his glare promising blood if anyone got too close. Griffin stepped in front of them, his broad shoulders blocking the cameras, and he growled, "Back. Off."

The reporters slowed at last, but the damage was already done.

Roman and Griffin each grabbed Violet’s arm and steered her through the throng, shielding her with their bodies. Flashes still sparked from behind as a few persistent reporters tried to follow them, but security formed a wall at the threshold.

"No further," one of the guards barked.

Violet’s pulse was still racing. She felt flustered, like some cheap product displayed at a market stall for anyone to appraise. The Matebond was important, yes, but she was more than just the mark on her skin. And damn it, a little warning would have been nice.

"Wasn’t this supposed to be a small party?" she asked, annoyed.

Where did the reporters come from?

Roman exhaled loudly, his hand rubbing her arm. "Elijah does whatever he likes."

Griffin’s jaw was clenched hard. He said, his voice clipped. "And I bet he did this on purpose to rattle us. We should be ready for whatever else he has planned tonight."

They stepped into the center of the garden, and Violet immediately felt the weight of dozens of stares. Not just the wolves, important humans too, probably politicians, and businessmen, all mingled together, sipping wine under the glow of the lights strung from the branches.

Their gazes slid toward her, curious, awed and impressed. Violet’s throat tightened. She had never been a fan of attention, and certainly, not now.

She caught sight of Leon Draven standing with Alexa. Roman’s father looked straight at his son, hurt flashing in his eyes when Roman pretended not to see him. Alexa’s expression softened with guilt, perhaps, before vanishing behind her usual mask.

Violet said nothing. Roman’s parents deserved every ounce of his silence and she wasn’t about to interfere.

"Here you are."

Alpha Irene approached them with commanding poise, her sculpted body filling out a red dress that bared her strong arms. The fabric hugged her figure, bold without being gaudy. Clearly, the woman had a love for red.

She smiled warmly at Violet, her eyes lighting up. "You look marvelous in that dress."

"Thank you," Violet said, managing a small smile.

She turned to the boys. "Both of you don’t look bad either."

Unlike Griffin, who only gave a cool nod, Roman grinned as if she had handed him the highest compliment of his life.

However, Irene’s smile faded into business. "Come. Elijah awaits."

At the mention of his name, Violet swallowed hard.

Both Griffin and Roman reached for her hand at once, and instead of choosing between them, Violet looped her arms through theirs. With her shoulders squared, and chin lifted high, she walked proudly forward with them into the lion’s den.

Her heels sank lightly into the grass as they followed Irene through the garden, her stride powerful. A thought nagged at Violet until she leaned closer to Griffin and whispered, "Why does your mother look like she’s running errands for Elijah?"

To Violet, Irene had always been the image of pride, hence seeing her act as though she were Elijah’s attendant felt off.

Griffin answered. "Better one of our own at Elijah’s side at a time like this."

And then Violet understood. Irene wasn’t bending to Elijah rather she was subtly spying on him. The thought eased something in her chest, and she felt a surge of respect for her mother-in-law. Goddess, she admired that woman.

It wasn’t long before they found Elijah.

He stood at the heart of it all, dressed exquisitely in a tailored black and gold apparel, a glass of wine balanced in his hand. His attention was on the man beside him until Irene announced them.

"Your Majesty," Irene announced, "Violet Purple and her mates."

Elijah’s gaze snapped to her at once. It pinned her mercilessly at the spot, as if he could strip her secrets bare with his eyes. Slowly, and deliberately, his gaze dropped, lingering on Griffin’s rune at her throat, and finally, Roman’s rune on her belly. His lips curved, as if he was satisfied by what he saw.

"You’re just in time," Elijah said, turning slightly toward his companion. "This is Vincent, Commander of Intelligence, Lycanthrope Intelligence Agency. He’s overseeing the Pine Ridge incident."

Violet’s gaze followed.

Vincent towered, taller even than some of the alphas she’d seen, his frame broad with thick muscle. His presence was suffocating, and he was dressed in black thoroughly, even to the gloves on his hands. His aura was cold, predatory, and it wasn’t difficult to see why he was a leader.

Griffin straightened the instant Vincent’s eyes locked with his. It wasn’t intentional, his body just reacted as if refusing to let another male intimidate him.

Vincent had him by a few inches, and was broader too, his frame cut from years of training. But Griffin was young, his body still filling out, his muscles not yet at their peak. In a few years, he would be every bit as imposing. For now, though, the silent clash between them was electric.

The stare-off lasted a beat too long, the air tight with challenge, before Vincent finally broke it. His voice was cold, detached, and stripped of any pleasantry.

"I would’ve preferred to take your statements in a proper office, but the Alpha King informed me you would leave for the West pack tomorrow. Hence my presence here tonight was inevitable. I’ll need your account of the Pine Ridge incident. Now."

The way he said now left no room for argument.

Elijah didn’t look bothered. He simply gestured toward the table set apart from the others, one draped in white linen with enough chairs for them all. "You can sit right there," he said smoothly, as if this had been planned all along.

Irene didn’t follow them this time. She gave Violet a nod, her expression unreadable, then stayed back. That alone made Violet’s chest tighten. If Irene wasn’t coming, it meant she expected them to handle this themselves.

The three of them—Violet between Griffin and Roman, exactly where they needed her to be—moved to the table and sat. Elijah settled across from them elegantly, while Vincent remained standing for a moment longer, before settling.

Then he reached into his coat, pulling out a slim leather-bound notebook and a fountain pen. He flipped the notebook open, set the pen to the page, and lifted his gaze.

"Tell me what exactly happened the night of Pine Lodge?"