Inside his room, Marco had barely wiped the blood from his hands when he felt the weight of her gaze on him.
Sharp. Calculating. Unyielding.
Viola.
The only female Alpha heir among them. She wasn't just beautiful—she was striking . Her long, dark hair caught the moonlight, cascading in waves over her shoulders, framing a face that could have stopped time. Her skin was pale, almost luminous, and her sharp features were soft enough to draw you in, but her mouth—slightly curved, lips full—was anything but inviting. She stood at the edge of the training grounds, arms crossed, her posture a perfect balance of grace and defiance.
There was something in her stare—something he couldn't quite decipher. Was it interest? Amusement? Perhaps even approval? But beneath it all, there was a deeper layer, a dangerous edge that tugged at his instincts.
Marco didn't flinch. He continued bandaging his knuckles, ignoring the sting as his fingers flexed. His body screamed from the fight, but pain didn't matter. Not now.
He had won.
He had killed.
And now, everyone in the camp respects him.
"That was surprising," Viola finally said, stepping closer. She paused for a moment, her piercing green eyes scanning him, as though she were weighing him with every glance. "To be honest," she continued, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, "I was one of those who thought you'd break before you'd bleed."
Her tone was teasing, but there was something sharper underneath it—a challenge, perhaps, or a thread of intrigue that Marco couldn't quite ignore.
Marco didn't answer. He had learned that silence was sometimes the best weapon and Viola didn't seem to mind.
She smirked, tilting her head. "But you didn't break, did you? You proved them wrong. I like that."
He met her gaze, unreadable. "I wasn't trying to impress you."
"Oh, I know." She let her eyes drag over him slowly, assessing. "But you did anyway."
He stiffened, but she only laughed.
Viola was nothing like the other heirs. She wasn't big and brutish like Jarek had been. She wasn't loud or desperate to prove herself. She didn't have to be. She was smart. Cunning. And Marco had the distinct feeling that when Viola wanted something, she got it.
"What do you want from me, Viola?" he asked finally.
Viola's smirk widened. "For now? Just to talk."
Marco didn't trust that. Not for a second.
She took another step forward, her boots crunching against the dirt. "We both know how this works, Marco. The strongest wolves rise. The weakest get left behind." She leaned in slightly. "I don't intend to be left behind."
Marco clenched his jaw. "Then fight your own battles."
"Oh, I do." She reached out, her fingers barely grazing his bruised knuckles. "But sometimes, the best victories come from the alliances we make."
His stomach twisted. He knew what she was saying.
She was offering him something. A partnership. A connection that could make him stronger, secure his place in this brutal world.
But he also knew the cost.
Viola wasn't the type to follow. She wasn't the type to serve. If he accepted her, she would expect to stand beside him—maybe even above him. And more than that, he could see it in her eyes. She wasn't just interested in his strength.
She was interested in him.
Marco forced his expression to remain unreadable, but Viola's smirk only deepened. Slowly, deliberately, she reached for the clasp of her cloak, letting it slip from her shoulders.
"I know what you're thinking," she murmured, taking a step forward. Her hands moved to the ties of her tunic, loosening them with a practiced ease.
"You think I'll try to control you." She shrugged out of the fabric, letting it pool at her feet. Beneath it, her shift clung to her frame, light enough that the flickering torches painted shadows against her skin.
Marco's jaw tightened, but he didn't move.
Her fingers drifted to her belt. It slid free with a whisper of leather. "I don't want control."
The shift was the last to fall.
Marco said nothing as she stood before him, completely naked. The firelight flickered across her skin, illuminating every sharp angle, every inch of her confidence.
Viola tilted her head, watching him. "I want power, Marco. And so do you."
She let the words settle between them, the weight of her presence pressing in.
Then, she stepped closer, reached for his bandaged hand, and guided it to her breasts.
"Think about it," she murmured, stepping back. "You and me? We could be unstoppable."