Devon POV
The minute Nadia stepped into my office, the air changed.
Not just shifted—soured. Like ash and perfume. Like death dressed in silk.
She was striking, of course. Always was.
Tall, statuesque, with a dangerous kind of beauty.
Dark red lips. Sharp cheekbones. Volcanic eyes that glinted like they'd seen the end of the world—and smiled at it.
She moved like a queen with a vendetta. Her heels didn't just click—they announced.
"Hello, cousin," she said, lacing the word with enough venom to crack granite.
Before I even knew what I was doing, my wolf surged forward.
Half-shifted. My spine burned. My fingers snapped into claws. Eyes glowing gold.
I lunged.
In one move, I had her pinned—throat in my grip, back crushed against the wall.
My teeth elongated, close enough to tear through skin if I bit down.
Nadia's wolf flashed in her irises.
Claws appeared. A warning.
But she didn't flinch—not really.
That smile? Still there. Still smug.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I growled.
Her voice was ragged from the pressure, but her smirk remained. "Why? You miss me?"
I squeezed harder. Just enough to remind her who was stronger.
She winced. Good.
Then I released her.
She slid down the wall, coughed, and brushed herself off like nothing had happened.
That was Nadia. Always composed. Always plotting.
She stood upright, adjusted her blazer like we were in a damn board meeting.
"What are you doing here, Nadia?"
She began circling my office like a panther. She touched the shelves, the whiskey decanter, and the edge of my desk.
Why did she always make everything feel like a game?
"Why? Can't I visit my beloved cousin?" she purred.
I slammed my fist against the desk. "Enough! Quit the shenanigans and tell me what you want."
"You have done well for yourself, Devy,, she said, calling me by that nickname she knew I hated while standing in front of my large portrait in the centre of my office. "Look at you, who would have thought? Devon James, the President of Astria," She said again, pacing gracefully in that dark twisted way that made my stomach turn. "But then again, knowing you. The power-conscious freak you've always been. It's no surprise to me," She said the last line with enough venom to pass a message.
I have had enough of her antics. "Nadia…." I called her name with utmost impatience.
She turned. Eyes like ice. "You owe me."
I laughed bitterly. "Owe you? I owe you nothing."
"Oh, you do, Devon," she said coolly. "With your life."
That made me pause. Just long enough for her to notice.
Her expression shifted—dangerous now.
"I'm here to end you," she said plainly. Eyes locked on mine like she was serious. Dead serious.
My wolf stirred, snarled, and challenged.
Then she burst out laughing. Loud, full-bodied, like a damn hyena.
"You should've seen your face," she gasped, holding her stomach. "God, you're still so easy."
I didn't laugh. Just watched her carefully.
She eventually composed herself, brushing imaginary tears from her cheeks.
"I ask again," I said, quieter this time. More dangerous. "What do you want, Nadia?"
This time, her tone changed. Still cool—but focused.
"I want the Alpha seat of Woodland."
I blinked.
Then laughed.
"You're joking."
Her face didn't move. "No."
"This isn't a soap opera, Nadia. You don't disappear for years, commit crimes, betray the pack, and return expecting a throne."
"The Elders would never even speak to you, let alone welcome you back. You're unstable. Unfit."
She smirked again. That knowing, eerie smirk.
"That's where you're wrong."
She stepped closer.
"You see, cousin," she whispered, "we both have our flaws. But mine? I never lied to the Elders."
I went still. My chest constricted. My wolf quieted.
"I always knew something was off when you brought Eleanor around," she continued. "You were too perfect. Too… rehearsed."
She circled me again.
"You lied, Devon. To the Elders. To the entire pack. Lied about Eleanor being your mate. Because you knew the truth would disqualify you from the Alpha seat."
My jaw clenched.
"You manipulated her. Took her to meet your 'family'—when they were your pack. Married her under pretences."
She stepped close, her voice now sharp as a blade.
"You pretended. Because Woodland law says no mateless wolf is worthy to lead."
She was right.
I staggered back a step, heat rising to my face. My wolf growled in shame.
"I did what I had to do," I said, barely able to meet her eyes.
"And now?" she said. "Now you're spiralling. Taking injections just to keep your wolf from tearing you apart."
Then her eyes narrowed.
"And then came Jimmie."
My breath caught.
"Oh.. I saw the video, Devon. The leaked footage. And so did others. Humans might think it's doctored. But wolves? We recognise a spark when we see one."
She leaned in, whispered the next words like a spell.
"You found your mate, Devon. And it isn't Eleanor."
My heart slammed against my ribs. My hands curled into fists.
"You think this is all a joke?" I snapped.
Nadia tilted her head. "I think it's a tragedy."
Then she dropped the real bomb.
"And now, thanks to that footage, the hunters know we still exist."
My entire body went cold.
"What?" I rasped.
She smiled. "You forgot that part, didn't you?"
I sank into the chair behind my desk, suddenly unable to stand.
"Yes," she said, calmly now. "Humans with silver bullets. Ancient hatred. The ones we've been hiding from for centuries. And now they know."
I stared at the floor, chest heaving.
Everything was unravelling.
She leaned on the edge of my desk and whispered, "Tell me, Mr. President, do you think the Elders will still back an Alpha who lied… who endangered his mate… and exposed the entire pack to genocide?"
I said nothing. I couldn't. My throat was dry. My mind goes blank.
Nadia stood upright again, straightened her suit.
"I'll see you at dinner, cousin," she said with a wink.
Then she was gone. Just like that. Leaving behind the smell of perfume and destruction.
The door clicked shut.
And I shivered.
Oh god.
This is worse than I thought.
My seat.
My pack.
Jimmie.
Everything was slipping through my fingers.
And it was all my fault.
—-
Jimmie's POV
I hate Devon James.
God, I want to hate him so bad.
That was all I could think about as I sat in the back seat of Eleanor's car, the engine humming low beneath me like it could feel my mood. The glass of the window reflected a tight-lipped version of myself, the tension in my jaw screaming louder than words.
He's so toxic. So... impossible.
Why wouldn't he just act like a normal man for once in his damn life?
I rolled my eyes hard enough to feel the pull in my temple, still hearing the words from earlier ringing in my head like a slap: Leave. Just leave, Jimmie.
And the worst part? He's the one who called me there.
I didn't ask to come to his office. I didn't show up uninvited like some desperate fool. He wanted me. And then, when I opened my mouth, when I dared speak sense—boom, he shut me out like I was a mistake he wished he hadn't made.
God, the audacity.
But then again, that's Devon James for you—charming in public, chaotic in private. One moment he's smirking like the world is his, the next he's pushing me away like I burn.
And I do burn, I thought bitterly. But not for myself. Not for me. For him. Always for him.
After he left me with Eleanor and Nadia this morning, I hadn't expected anything else from him. No clarity. Not apologies. Not even warmth.
Just... nothing.
And maybe that's what stung the most.
Nadia, on the other hand... She was a whole other enigma. Beautiful in that wild, unpolished way that reminded me of my cousin Clementine. Same fire, same don't-touch-me-or-you'll-bleed kind of energy. Only Clementine had never scared me. Nadia did.
She had that presence, like she knew something. Moved like every room was already hers, like she saw a few layers deeper than she let on. Her eyes lingered on me too long, like she was reading a story no one else had access to. A story I hadn't even finished writing myself.
Was she a wolf, too? Was she like him?
She'd told Eleanor she was only visiting for a few days. Just passing through. Reconnecting.
Liar.
"Jimmie, I need you to come up with a strategic plan to counter the rumours involving my husband," Eleanor had said, snapping me out of my daze. She stood tall by the windows, sunlight kissing her cheekbones like royalty. "Also... send word to Devon's secretary. Tell him there will be a family dinner tonight. He must be present."
"Yes, ma'am," I'd replied, pulling myself together.
Moments later, my phone beeped.
Devon's secretary is requesting my presence at his office.
And just like that, my heart betrayed me. It jumped. Like a child promised candy. And I didn't know why. I'd told myself I was willing. Willing to try. That I'd move at his pace, cautious, calm.
But my damn heart didn't get the memo.
I was late to the office—Eleanor had kept me back with some last-minute details.
By the time I got there, Devon was finishing his press briefing. Flawless. Focused. Every word crisp, every point landed. He looked like a man who owned the world and didn't owe anyone an explanation.
And then… he saw me.
That look. That ridiculous, familiar softness. His pull the moment I entered his office was everything my throbbing heart couldn't contain. I halt in my step, not trusting my gut. My legs. Then the Whispering came, the way he whispered things under his breath, making me whimper before I could stop myself—before everything got complicated.
What was that about?
I hated how easily I melted under his touch. How some part of me leaned in, wanted it, craved more. Shamelessly. I hated it because I knew better. We weren't safe. This thing wasn't safe.
So I said what needed to be said.
We needed to be careful.
But instead of listening, instead of appreciating my concern, Devon did what he always does—he discarded me. Brushed me off like an irritation.
And that… that broke something.
Because I meant what I said to him. If he couldn't get a grip on himself—if he kept throwing me away like I was some inconvenient secret—I would walk away.
Damn the consequences.
"We're here, sir," Fridge said gently, dragging me out of my head.
"Thanks," I murmured.
I was at the wine cellar Eleanor requested—she wanted something elegant, something smooth for tonight's dinner. Something that would impress Nadia.
She'd admitted earlier that she was nervous. This would be the first family member of Devon's to ever visit the residence.
That alone said enough.
I picked out a vintage red—aged, rich, seductive. The kind of wine that made a statement without screaming. Then I headed back.
—
BACK AT THE RESIDENCE
The house smelled like rosemary and lemon zest, the air heavy with anticipation. The dining room sparkled under soft chandeliers, the table dressed in gold-rimmed china and velvet napkins.
Eleanor stood at the centre of it all, in a dark sapphire gown that hugged her like loyalty. Her hair was pinned back in intricate twists, pearls tucked between the strands like whispers of grace.
She was giving orders to the kitchen staff with the calm precision of a queen.
"Here," I said, offering her the wine.
She turned, took one look at the bottle, and grinned. "This will do."
Then Devon walked in.
He was early.
Wearing a black tailored suit, no tie, collar slightly loose. Effortless. Dangerous. Like a storm that wore a tux.
His eyes found mine.
I didn't look back.
I couldn't.
I was still angry. Still aching. Still mad about the stunt he pulled earlier, and nowhere near ready to let it go.
Then she arrived.
Nadia.
In a crimson silk gown that shimmered like blood under moonlight. She kissed Eleanor's cheeks, smiled too sweetly, then tossed Devon a glance that sliced the air.
A smirk. Knowing. Calculated.
Devon tensed.
There was history there.
I stepped back.
"I'd like to retire for the day if you'd permit, ma'am," I said softly.
Eleanor opened her mouth—but Nadia was faster.
"Nonsense," she said with a laugh. "You must join us. I'd be delighted to dine with you, sweetheart. Unless Devon minds?"
Devon stiffened.
It wasn't what she said—it was how she said it. The tone. The edge beneath the silk.
Something cold brushed my spine.
Eleanor hesitated, then offered an unsure smile. "I don't think Devon would mind…"
"Good," Nadia replied cheerfully. "Shall we?"
Dinner began well. Too well.
Eleanor played the perfect host. The wine flowed. The food was flawless.
She brought up Devon's speech, how he'd handled the swirling rumours in the press. Commended his composure.
Nadia listened, nodding, occasionally tossing in a vague compliment or a cryptic question.
Devon was quiet. Watching. Thinking.
I sat still. Observing.
Something was off. The air was too thick. The tension was layered like perfume masking rot.
Then it happened.
"So, Alpha," Nadia said casually to Devon, dabbing the corners of her mouth. "How long do you plan to keep this up?"
Eleanor froze. Her fork paused mid-air.
"Alpha?" she echoed, confused.
Devon didn't respond.
But his posture gave him away.
He stiffened like he'd been struck.
I blinked. Alpha? What the hell?
Nadia kept talking, pretending it was nothing. ''Oh… just felt the term was appropriate, he being the president and all,'' she said between a fake chuckle, but her eyes flicked to me. Watching. Measuring.
She leaned in, smiled like it was just us.
"And," she began, voice sweet as syrup, "I almost forgot."
She tilted her head, delicate, curious.
"I watched the footage," she said. "From that day. I must say—it was… intriguing."
I didn't breathe.
Then, with every eye at the table locked on her, she turned to me.
"Tell me, sweetheart," she asked gently, "did you know what you were… when you touched him?"
I choked.
Literally. On my wine.
Coughed into my napkin as the room fell silent.
Eleanor stared at me, stunned.
Devon's jaw clenched, eyes wide with something between panic and fury.
And me?
My heart was beating so fast I thought it might crack open.
Because suddenly, I wasn't just angry.
I was afraid.