CHAPTER 544: HAND HER OVER TO FATHER

Neither Griffin nor Roman protested as Violet rose from her seat and walked toward her brother. Micah already had his hand out, waiting for her, and she slipped her palm into his. He led her confidently onto the dance floor.

The string quartet built into a romantic piece, the violins carrying a tender, aching melody while the cello pulled deep, mournful notes beneath. It was the kind of music that tugged at the heart, neither too sad nor too joyful, but somewhere in between. It made the chest tighten, like love itself pressed into sound.

Other couples were already dancing, but the moment Violet and Micah stepped in, the spotlight shifted. Their gazes followed them, conversation rising. They were two separately mated pairs dancing together. The goddess was really gracious to them.

They curtsied in perfect rhythm, and then Micah slid his arm firmly around Violet’s waist, guiding her into the first sway.

Violet was not exactly graceful, but the weeks at Lunaris Academy had refined her moves. She stepped light and effortless, letting Micah lead as they turned with the music. The crowd soon forgot about them, joining in on the dance as well.

Violet’s lips barely moved as she whispered, "I take it something is up?"

Micah’s voice was so low it was almost impossible she heard him. "I could have called," he admitted, "but this isn’t something for the phone. I said we’d talk face to face but my uncle has had his eyes on me, and this is the only way I could think of."

As if on cue, Micah dipped her low in a dramatic sway. From that tilted angle, Violet’s eyes found Elijah across the room. Except he was already staring at her. A knowing smile tugged at his lips and goosebumps erupted down Violet’s arms.

When Micah pulled her upright again, she whispered in a shaky tone, "Elijah is playing a strange game. He knows about me."

"What?" Micah stiffened, instinctively trying to look over his shoulder.

"Don’t!" Violet hissed, panic flashing in her eyes.

Micah stopped himself mid-motion, seamlessly shifting the dance so it looked natural. He said, turning her with ease. " You’re right, he’s testing us. Which means we need a distraction. We seriously need to talk, Violet."

Violet bit down on her lip, mind racing. What could they do? Then she caught sight of Roman dragging Griffin—half against his will—onto the dance floor.

"What in the world are those two—" Violet froze. An idea sparked. "Micah," she whispered quickly. "Dance close enough to Roman."

Her brother gave her a questioning brow, but he didn’t argue. Together they incorporated sharper spins, longer strides, slowly weaving their way across the floor toward Roman and Griffin.

When they had gotten within ten feet, Violet tugged at the Matebond. The invisible thread between her and Roman flared hot, pulling his attention like a magnetic force.

Roman’s head lifted instantly, his keen eyes finding her. Their gazes locked across the swirl of dancers.

Violet mouthed: Do something.

For a moment, Roman’s brows furrowed in confusion. Then, as his gaze flicked between her and Micah, realization lit his face. His grin spread wide, cocky and dangerous.

Oh boy. Violet swallowed at the look in Roman’s eyes. She hoped to God she hadn’t made a mistake here.

For over a minute they danced and nothing happened. Micah leaned down, whispering with impatience. "What now?"

Violet’s frown deepened. Maybe Roman hadn’t gotten the message after all.

Then it happened.

A shriek split the air. Then another. And another. Soon the entire garden rippled with screams. Violet’s head snapped around just in time to see... Rats?!

It was not just one, not ten, but what looked like a hundred of them spilling across the garden like a living tide.

Of course, to Violet, it was nothing. Back in District One, rats were a delicacy, cooked and served without shame. But this was a high-end party full of socialites from all over the world, people who had never seen such vermin in their pristine lives. To them, it wasn’t a pest, but a nightmare. She should have known Roman would go over the mile. Not that she could blame him. It was working.

Chaos swept the garden. Screams tangled with the squeaks of the rats. Guests tripped over chairs and each other, gowns tearing, and shoes flying. A woman shrieked as one darted beneath her skirts, while a man stumbled straight into the wine fountain.

For Violet and Micah, it was perfect.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Violet muttered as she stepped on a couple of tails. The rats squealed but scattered, ignoring her.

"Where do we go?" Micah hissed, scanning wildly for cover.

"I know!" Violet grabbed his arm and tugged him fast through the panic. Guards brushed past them, too distracted with the "rat epidemic" to give them a second glance.

She pulled Micah toward the side of the garden where a glass structure loomed, half-hidden by hedges and vines. It was the greenhouse.

It was empty inside, the door creaking as she shoved it open. The whole place smelled of damp earth and herbs. There was no moonlight hence the place was dark, quiet, and secluded. Perfect.

Both of them adjusted easily with the help of their werewolf sight.

"This will do," Violet said, finally letting go of his arm. "So tell me, what is so important that you couldn’t just tell me over the phone?"

For a long moment, Micah didn’t answer. He only stared at her, his hazel eyes unreadable, and it dragged on long enough to make her skin prickle.

"We don’t have much time," Violet pressed, reminding him.

Finally, Micah spoke. "Remember when you once asked me if you could trust me and I said no?"

"Yes," Violet said slowly. "What about it?"

That uneasy feeling crept into her chest, clawing tighter the longer he delayed. She prayed to the goddess she hadn’t just made the worst mistake of her life.

"There’s a reason why."

"And?"

"Father contacted me."

Violet’s entire body snapped into instinct. Darkness pooled across her palm before she could even think while her stance shifted, ready for a fight.

If Micah thought for one second he could betray her, hand her over to Angus, then he was in for the rudest awakening of his life.

She would die fighting.