CHAPTER 540: GRIFFIN’S MOVE

"What?!" Violet blurted out, her eyes widening as it sank in what she had just said. "No, I’m not—" She tried to fix it, fumbling instead. "I mean—no—it’s not that, I mean, it’s not like I’m part of your family and when you put it—"

Violet stopped. She was babbling, and judging by the looks she was getting, she was only making it worse. Her face heated with embarrassment and she wished the ground would open up and swallow her at this point.

Elijah’s lips curved into a sly smile. He was enjoying this. "Of course you’re not part of the family," he said, tilting his glass in her direction. "But then, Micah now wears a rune. And you, Violet, are mate-bonded to not just one, but two of my heirs." His eyes glinted. "I’d say that makes you family, in a certain way. Wouldn’t you agree?"

Every word was a trap.

"If you say so, Your Majesty." Violet laughed weakly, the sound awkward and thin. She tried to calm her breathing, but her heart was hammering like a drum. And she knew Elijah could hear every beat.

His eyes stayed on her a little too long as if he was peeling away her skin to see what lay hidden beneath.

And inside her chest, a heavy, dreadful thought took root.

Elijah knew.

Violet felt it in her bones. He was onto her.

Her hands shook under the table where no one could see. She wanted to get up, leave, and breathe, but she couldn’t. If she moved now, it would only confirm whatever piece Elijah already had on her. But what did he know? What part of her secret had slipped? And worse, what would he do with it?

Her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain everyone at the table could hear. Roman must have sensed it because he reached for her hand. She gripped him tight like he was her lifeline. The warmth of his skin anchored her, and when his thumb brushed slowly across her palm, the simple rhythm soothed her just enough to keep her from falling apart.

"Violet Purple. You’re up next."

Vincent’s voice cut through her chest like a knife. He flipped to a fresh page in his notebook, eyes sharp and fixed on her.

No.

Violet panicked inside. Not now.

She was still too rattled by Elijah’s trap, and

too flustered to keep her heartbeat even. If she spoke now, Vincent would smell her fear, needle into it, and drag the truth out of her.

Before she could force words past her dry lips, Griffin demanded.

"No. Ask me next."

Vincent’s pen stilled. Slowly, he lifted his head, one brow arching in challenge. "I give the orders here."

The tension spiked and Violet froze, every nerve on fire. Vincent had seen her crack. If ever there was a time to press her until she broke, this was it.

And Vincent knew it.

But Griffin growled, "And I order you to interview me now, or I’ll invoke the Sovereign Soil Law."

Roman gave a low whistle, grinning at Griffin’s bold move.

Vincent’s gaze darkened. "You wouldn’t dare."

Griffin leaned in slightly, unbothered, his size casting a shadow across the table. "Try me."

Because of the sharp glares both men were trading across the table, Violet leaned closer to Roman and whispered, "What’s the Sovereign Soil Law?"

"The law that says any werewolf, no matter their rank, can only be questioned within their own pack’s soil. Not here, in Aster City, where humans pull the strings. Griffin’s soil is the East Pack. That’s where he’d answer." Roman’s eyes gleamed as he explained, almost excited by the loophole.

"Oh..." Violet blinked as it clicked. Griffin had just played a smart one on Vincent.

"So what’s it going to be, Commander?" Griffin’s eyes flashed dangerously. "Refuse me now, and you’ll be making the trip all the way to the East Pack to try again. And even if you get there, you’d still have to crawl through my lawyers first. No guarantee they’d ever let you in the same room with me. We could drag it out for months, hell, for years. Or..." His voice dropped lower, steady and hard. "You can question me right here, right now."

He let the threat hang, heavy, daring Vincent to choose.

The table went dead silent, and for the first time, Vincent’s jaw twitched. His eyes slid to Alpha King Elijah subtly demanding he intervened, but the king only shrugged and sipped his drink, detached as ever.

Violet couldn’t help but wonder whose side Elijah was really on, because it sure looked like he had just abandoned his comrade.

"Fine. Let’s do it," Vincent hissed out finally, each word sounding like it cost him blood.

Griffin didn’t smile, not outright. But the pride in his posture was impossible to miss. He had won this round. Still, the fire in Vincent’s eyes told Violet this was far from over, if anything, he was about to push harder. But she had confidence in her men.

"Tell me what happened that night, Griffin Hale."

Griffin began. "I was in bed with my mate when a strange noise woke me. Heavy boots. More than one. The scent of oil and metal. The first two that came through the door didn’t last long. The rest came prepared and turned on a sonic emitter that stopped my shifting cold. Even so, the only thing keeping me upright was her." He nodded toward Violet. "I told her to run for her life and she did."

Vincent’s face didn’t move. "How many men?"

"Eight inside. More outside. They swarmed the place, and it’s no wonder I went down. Three silver rounds lodged in my body, one on my shoulder, lower right quadrant, and high back. I remember the heat of it more than the pain. But I also remember Adele’s hands pulling me back from death."

This time, Violet placed her hand over his and squeezed, giving him a small smile. Griffin smiled back.

Vincent was unmoved. "How did you know it was Patrick’s men in the middle of a firefight?"