I glance down at the magazine that has all sorts of stars on a map, and one is in the middle of Shadow Hills.

“It was on her travel possibilities. Imagine my horror,” she tells me on a humorless laugh. “She went to various other towns without my knowledge. She even landed in the middle of Everly Falls for a Dracula marathon screening.”

My eyebrows go up, and she nods.

“Yes, Dorian’s home. My heart stopped when I heard that, but she fortunately decided against it, because it was too far away. She didn’t want to fly. Her obsession and fixation on finding out what her monster was capable of became a very big goal of hers…before and after her head came off. I told her to never let that happen. She finally got to change her bloody name as a result.”

That last part makes no sense to me, but it’s the least important of all she’s said.

All of these towns that are marked are towns with immortals. Even though she didn’t know, she still knew where she belonged.

“I went there for the exact same all-night werewolf movie marathon,” Damien states idly, pointing at one star that has been marked as “visited,” as he shoves by me. “Visited my miserable younger brother who didn’t come out of his room the entire time.”

Marta and I both glare at him, as he continues to point to the town like we don’t know which younger brother he’s referring to.

Amos Morpehous.

“I wonder if I just didn’t notice her scent then,” he adds like he’s confused. “I should have.”

Marta bristles, and my eyes narrow more on her, as she shrugs like she’s not concerned.

“She never got to bond with any of Tom’s family, because I knew it’d hurt her to know they’d one day be irrelevant. She hasn’t made meaningful attachments, because Violet knows she can only keep so many things. It’s hard work to carry everything around. You have to be certain it’s worth it.”

I’m not sure if she’s trying to confuse us when she smiles like she’s recalling fond memories. Her smile steadily falls, as her gaze comes out of lala land and goes flat.

“She’s too good for all of you combined. She doesn’t understand the weight of so many centuries of baggage. She’s too young for now to fully comprehend what that means.”

She shrugs a careless shoulder as she turns and walks away once again, leaving me with the magazine like she’s been carrying it around for a moment like this.

Typical Marta—giving unimportant information wrapped in a dazzling package.

“She’s too good for all of us,” she adds so quietly I almost miss it. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

The second she’s almost out of sight, Damien turns to face me, eyebrows furrowed.

“She’s not telling us something,” Damien states like he’s worried I’m too stupid to pick up on that.

“It’s Marta Portocale. When she tells you something small, it’s to distract you from something bigger,” I state flatly. “We’ve lived too long for her to change that much.”

I glance back at the house, and Damien makes another sound.

“Dorian and Emily are both overly interested in Violet,” I tell him quietly. “Just as Zuela was.”

“She’s unique. We’ve lived long enough to notice as much. Dorian circled her like prey, I pissed my circle around her to mark my territory, and he walked away. Haven’t been bothered by him since,” Damien states dismissively.

“You haven’t bothered to deal with him either,” I point out.

He arches an eyebrow at me. “Also a bit like the pot-to-the-kettle thing. Dorian’s not my problem if all your mutinies aren’t a big deal.”

“It’s too close to the full moon for you to be a prick,” I caution.

“Bullshit. The moon is ages away. You just don’t want Violet knowing you really yelled at her while of sound mind, and the moon is your overused scapegoat for all the things you do too aggressively.”

“You yelled at her too.”

“Of course I did,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “She was drawing the attention of Zuela fucking Van Helsing. Now he just thinks she’s a joke, and that’s her own doing. She wasn’t wearing that fucking dress before she came out here. How’d she know he likes cigars? Why did she know that?”

I spot Leiza from the upstairs window, as she darts her head down. I’d wager all my omegas know such things. Since when do my omegas get involved in politics of any kind?

“She listened to others who knew all about him, because omegas don’t fight unless they’re backed into a corner,” I answer distractedly. “Omegas woo alphas.”

Damien scrubs a hand over his face.

“She was ridiculous on purpose, which is why she never even really got defensive. She wanted the attention on her, just like Marta said,” I add, even though he’s deduced as much by now.

“She really needs to stop protecting us from fights with other alphas. She’s confusing war with alpha-ness stuff,” he grumbles.

Alpha-ness stuff?

I don’t even repeat the gibberish. I simply give him a questioning look.

“You know what I bloody mean, wolf,” he says, distractedly, as he peers through the window.

“Should I be concerned that there’s a tie hanging around her forehead and that she’s now wearing a tuxedo that’s too big for her?” Damien asks, drawing my attention to where Violet has moved on to dancing on a table with Tiara.