CHAPTER 627: WHAT ABOUT VIOLET?

Duskmoon Hollow

Ziva had a smile on her face as she stirred from sleep. With her eyes still closed, she reached for her father, only for her hand to meet empty sheets. Her lashes fluttered open, and the dreamy softness on her face hardened into a frown.

She wanted more time with him, but apparently, the man had other plans. She didn’t need to guess where he was; the low murmur of voices from the living room told her enough.

Ziva rose from bed and wrapped a robe loosely around her body. She wouldn’t have minded walking out naked—let the whole world see she belonged to the Supreme Alpha—but her father hated when she distracted him during business. So she settled for this.

When she stepped into the room, Jericho, her father’s Beta, was the first to notice her. His expression soured immediately. The man never hid his distaste for her, and if not for his usefulness to Angus, she would’ve rid herself of him long ago.

Three others were present, all werewolves, and her father’s loyal advisors. Though Angus had welcomed witches into his new world, he still distrusted them enough to keep wolves closest. He had kinship with their kind, after all. Hence, she was the only witch he trusted and she in return ensured the other witches stayed loyal to him — by all means possible.

"You’re here," Angus said without lifting his gaze from the reports spread across the table.

"Yes, Father." Ziva stepped beside him, slowly and deliberately brushing her hand over his arm as if to remind everyone in the room who she belonged to.

Aside from the faint furrow that creased his brow, Angus didn’t react. His daughter was useful, but her petty possessiveness was beginning to grate on him. Business was business; pleasure was pleasure.

The same quiet disapproval shone in the eyes of his men, but none dared speak. They knew better than to comment on the Supreme Alpha’s personal affairs.

Ziva sensed the shift in the room, and it irritated her. "You started the meeting without me," she said, her voice edged with accusation.

Angus finally turned his head, his cold eyes cutting into her. "I didn’t realize I needed your permission to start my meetings."

Ziva flinched at the chill in his tone. It was only words, but she knew her father too well—he was angry.

"O-of course," she stammered, shrinking back slightly but still trying to recover. "I just thought you might appreciate my contribution to your plans."

"Well," Angus said flatly, returning to the papers, "you’re here now, aren’t you?"

He shifted his focus back to the others, his tone brisk. "Now, where were we?"

As someone who liked to dominate a room, Ziva didn’t take kindly to her father’s cool treatment, and it showed in the scowl that carved her face.

"...the attack on the North Pack could have been far worse if not for your daughter, Violet, stopping it," James, one of Angus’s advisors, said.

At the mention of Violet, Ziva’s eyes widened and then narrowed to hard slits. Of course she’d heard about the rescue, but hearing it recited like a trophy in front of her father tore the old well of jealousy wide open. She didn’t want Angus proud of anyone but her.

"She’s powerful," Angus conceded with a small nod. "Just like her mother." Pride laced his words.

Ziva’s nails dug into her sides.

"If she’s that powerful, then convincing her to our side would be difficult. I mean compared to your other children...." Jericho offered cautiously, glancing at Ziva as if trying to soften the blow. "She’s been raised to loathe you and everything you stand for. I don’t see how that’s going to change easily."

"Yes, Father," Ziva agreed, forcing a smile. "What if Violet becomes strong enough to defeat you? Wouldn’t it be an advantage to remove her before she reaches full strength?"

Yes. Say yes. Let me be the one to rip her heart out,

she thought, venom coiling in her mind.

But Angus simply laughed. A loud, boisterous laughter as if all they had done was tell him jokes.

"It is not funny, father. I’m worried about you, here." Ziva pressed.

Angus said, "When we get to that bridge, we’d cross it."

"But —" Ziva wanted to protest but Angus had already moved on.

"This Patrick Vale," he asked Jericho, "can you find him?"

"The witches can if they put in effort." Jericho replied. "Why? Do you want him eliminated before he kills more of our people?"

"That could be good PR," Edward, another advisor, interjected, "Alpha Angus risen and eliminates the racist terrorist Patrick Vale."

Angus’s lips twitched. "Good thinking, but timing is everything. We’ll find Patrick Vale

because we need to cloak him from being found by my brother Elijah and the government until the moment suits us."

"So we let him kill more werewolves?" Jericho asked, incredulous.

"Exactly the point," Angus said, "No revolution was ever born without sacrifice. Right now, my brother is beloved by the people, but what happens if he fails to protect his kind? They’ll turn, they’ll rage, and then they’ll beg for a savior. Then the people would hope for a messiah and that

is when I come in. The werekind bow to strength and they’ll cast aside a weak king when a stronger hand offers itself."

The men in the room exchanged looks, then one by one nodded in agreement. The plan had the cold logic of a trap, it was elegant and monstrous.

Edward, the third man, added, "We weave a sob story, pin your disappearance on Elijah. We’d make him the villain everyone loves to hate."

"I’ll leave the narrative to you," Angus said, eyes glinting. "We just have to be conscious of timing. We cannot afford to make even a bit of a mistake."

Just when the atmosphere began to ease, Ziva suddenly spoke.

"What about the Cardinal Alphas?" she asked smoothly. "They’re powerful, and next in line to your throne. Not to mention, each of them is linked to your precious daughter, Violet."