"Tell me, what exactly happened the night of Pine Ridge Lodge?"
Roman was the first to break the silence, pointing lazily between the three of them. "Me? Him? Or my sweet mate?" His hand slid over Violet’s shoulder with a little smile. "You’ll have to be more specific, Commander of Intelligence." His tone was light, almost playful, but the taunt was clear at the end.
"Roman Draven." Vincent’s jaw tightened as he spoke the name. "I’ve heard enough about your antics. Let’s start with you."
"Ooh," Roman leaned back, grinning. "Hit me, baby." The way he stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles, you’d think he was gearing up for a party, not an interrogation.
Vincent set his pen down on the paper, the nib hovering just over the first line. "From the beginning, Roman, Draven," he ordered. "Why Pine Ridge Lodge? What happened that night? Who was there, and what exactly transpired?"
Violet and Griffin exchanged a glance, worry flashing between them. They both knew how easily Roman could get carried away.
The safest plan would have been to recite the story word for word—unified, airtight, and rehearsed. But professionals like Vincent despised perfect stories. Wolves could pick up on stress levels, heartbeats, and micro-expressions. Too clean, and he’d smell the lie instantly. One slip, and everything falls apart.
That’s why the plan was simple but risky: they would keep the same backbone story, but each of them would tell it in their own way. Variations were natural, after all, they had been separated that night. That way, it gave their story layers, and not cracks.
So keep it vague enough to cover the gaps, and speak with the pride of survivors, not the guilt of suspects. It would feel natural and believable.
It was planned to perfection.
The only question was whether they could stick to it— and it started with Roman.
"You might want to sit comfortably for this one," Roman drawled, lounging back in his seat before he began. "Why Pine Ridge Lodge? You’ll have to ask my boy Alaric about that one. But hey, solid choice. We turned it into a little vacation. Beautiful scenery, mountain air so fresh the animal in me nearly had an orgasm just breathing it in. Then again, nothing beats a real orgasm when you’ve got your mate-in-law and your girlfriend in the same place." He winked at Violet, who promptly rolled her eyes.
Vincent’s voice cracked up a notch. "Do you think this is a joke?"
Roman’s smile vanished, and his face hardened in an instant. "Do I look like I’m laughing, Commander Vincent?" he shot back, his voice flat and cold. "You asked a question. I’m answering. Forgive me if you’re not used to my charming personality and my answers don’t sound like one of your little soldiers kissing your boots. I just don’t take commands well."
For a heartbeat, Roman’s wolf flashed in his eyes, a glint of wild danger that froze Vincent’s pen mid-scratch.
Violet and Griffin exchanged a quick look. They hadn’t seen that coming.
Roman was reckless, yes. A joker who never seemed to shut up. But in moments like this, he was unpredictable, and damn shrewd.
It seems they might have nothing to worry about at this rate.
"Fine, where were you at the time of the attack?" Vincent insisted.
"Chained up like some animal. Asher and Alaric believed I had gone feral when it was only the Matebond activating. So I wasn’t there to support Griffin and Violet when the attack began?" Roman answered, annoyed.
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