As Violet lay curled on her knees, groaning in theatrical agony, the startled whispers rising from every Alpha in the hall ceased instantly. The violet fire in her eyes flared with the sheer malice of a cunning predator that had finally cornered its prey. Wrapping herself in the darkest, most aristocratic armor of victimhood, she extended her trembling finger toward the man crushed beneath the weight of the heavy silver chains.
"That night!" Violet roared, her voice trembling violently with ragged sobs as it battered the high-vaulted ceiling of the hall.
"The one who dragged me into the middle of that ruthless, bloody skirmish... the one who suddenly appeared out of the shadows along my path and offered me that poisoned rose wine, telling me, 'Varg needs you, Violet, you must go to him'... it was Uncle Samuel! He is the one who poisoned me!"
