Unlike Alaric’s lab, which was easy enough to locate, Roman’s treehouse wasn’t even marked on the school’s map. Not that Violet was surprised by it.
Roman’s treehouse was private to him, especially considering she was the first girl he brought up there despite his notorious reputation as a player.
His pack mbers would know though, especially Abel, his loyal Beta. But she couldn’t even chat him up in this situation.
How could she even begin that conversation? "Hey Abel, where’s the man whose heart I may have shattered in real ti?"
No. Just the thought made her sick with sha.
God only knew the mber of his pack must hate her ass now.
However, there was one person who knew secrets no one else knew.
The Oracle.
Violet pulled out her phone, and privately chatted with the oracle.
VIOLET:
I need your help.
A reply ca in almost imdiately.
THE ORACLE:
Well, well. Violet Purple. Congratulations on securing your mate. 😘 Now tell , darling, what could you possibly need help with?
Violet didn’t waste ti and typed her request.
VIOLET:
I need a map to Roman’s treehouse.
She then waited.
THE ORACLE:
Ooh, a secret rendezvous with an old fla? This is going to be so interesting. Should I bring popcorn?
VIOLET:
This is not the ti for jokes. I need that map.
THE ORACLE:
You know how this works. Information for information. What’s the saying again? Nothing good is ever free?
And yes, this was one of the many ways the Oracle got her informations and it was
through deals. You wanted sothing, you offered sothing. That’s how she always knew everything before it even happened.
But Violet was in no mood for gas.
VIOLET:
How about I try not to reveal your identity and you send the map?
Violet’s tone was sharp and unbothered by pleasantries. She simply tucked the threat into a single line.
A long pause followed. And then the reply ca in.
THE ORACLE:
So I help you out and this is how you repay , Violet?
Violet exhaled, then finally typed:
VIOLET:
I’m not in the mood for gas, Micah. Just help out, please?
Three dots blinked on the screen for a mont. Then ca the response.
THE ORACLE:
Hmm. Smart girl.
There was a short delay. Violet shifted on her feet, glancing at her surroundings, impatience gnawing at her.
Then—ping. A map dropped into her chat, and she clicked it imdiately.
It was marked clearly, Roman’s treehouse was circled clearly in red, alongside detailed paths on how to get to it.
The Oracle’s final ssage followed right after:
THE ORACLE:
I take it you don’t want your little detour headlining my article tomorrow? Then I believe you owe a visit, Luna Violet.
It was just words but Violet could feel the threat hiding beneath them.
She typed back the only thing she would allow herself to say:
VIOLET:
Thank you.
Then she ended the chat.
Violet followed the path etched in the Oracle’s map, and it took her nearly thirty minutes to get there.
The last ti she ca here, it had been at night and Roman had held and carried her through out. But now, in full daylight, the treehouse revealed itself in plain sight and it stunned her.
It was perched high, at least twenty feet in the air, cradled between the thick limbs of two towering oaks. A long wooden stair with no railing for grasp led up to it, crooked and a little too adventurous for her liking. Roman must have been in his crazy phase when he built this death trap.
Violet sighed. If this was a test from the goddess to prove her love for him, she’d gladly take it. Left with no other choice, she crouched and began her ascent.
Each step creaked beneath her feet, the old planks groaning like they hadn’t been used in days. A few of them looked ready to snap under the wrong pressure, and Violet had to test each one before committing her weight.
By the ti Violet made it to the top, her thighs were burning and her breath was slightly uneven, but she stood firmly on the landing. She pushed through the curtain and walked in.
Roman lay on the only couch in the room, his long form stretched out and completely naked like the day he was born. He had probably completed a shift and hadn’t bothered dressing afterwards. But Violet didn’t care. Her eyes didn’t go there.
She took in the open cooler in the corner and the scatter of empty beer bottles around the floor and her chest ached. He’d been drinking because of her.
Violet moved slowly, stepping past the bottles and lowering herself gently onto the floor beside the couch. From this angle, she could see his face clearly. Roman’s lips were slightly parted, and his hair tousled in a way that only made him look more heartbreakingly beautiful, vulnerable, and human.
Violet didn’t even realize when her hand reached out, and her fingers brushed through his thick, silky green hair, combing back the strands that had fallen over his forehead.
The contact was featherlight, and reverent causing a soft sigh to escape his throat. Then he leaned closer. Even in sleep, his body recognized her touch.
Violet smiled, her lips twitching faintly at the corners. So she kept on stroking, letting the silence wrap around them. Hours might as well have passed by, but Violet didn’t care. Her hand ached badly, but she never stopped stroking his hair.
Then, slowly, Roman stirred.
His eyelids fluttered, eyes unfocused at first. "Violet?" he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
"Yes, it’s ," she replied softly.
For a mont there, hope sparked in Violet’s chest that this might be the opportunity to talk this out.
But then the clarity returned to his eyes and with it, returned the anger.
Before Violet could say another word, Roman shot to his feet in one swift motion.
"Roman—wait! Please!"
But he was already gone.
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