DEVON'S POV
The bed felt too wide, too cold, too… empty.
I opened my eyes slowly, blinking against the thin slant of morning light sneaking through the floor-to-ceiling drapes of the presidential suite. The silence greeted me with a strange sense of betrayal. I turned my head slightly. The spot where Eleanor had slept was vacant, her side already cold.
She was gone, probably headed out early for work. Just as well. I couldn't have faced her right now, not with what was clawing at my chest.
I exhaled, deep and low, and pressed my back further into the soft Egyptian cotton sheets. I wasn't ready to get up. Not yet.
Because all I could feel, all I could remember, was Jimmie.
The kiss.
God, that kiss.
I ran my fingers over my lips like they were retracing a memory, not just a moment. My wolf stirred, not with urgency, but contentment. Calm. Like he had been fed after a famine.
"He kissed me," I thought again, as if it still hadn't fully registered. But it had.
Deeply. Too deeply.
Not just the feel of Jimmie's lips, soft, hesitant at first, then bolder, but the way it lit something inside me, something ancient and raw. Something that had been dormant for far too long.
A bond.
My wolf knew. And for the first time in years… maybe even since that godforsaken lie to the council… the creature inside me wasn't fighting.
He was still.
And that silence said everything.
But what rattled me more wasn't the wolf. It was Jimmie. The way the lad had looked at me, square in the face, unflinching. There had been something in Jimmie's voice, a resolve. Not fear. Not confusion. Choice.
Jimmie had chosen to lean in.
Had chosen to kiss me.
Had chosen to stay.
And that terrified me more than anything. Because now? Now there was no going back. I had started something. Something real.
I sat up slowly, running a hand through my thick hair, the weight of the night before still pressing on my shoulders. I had only wanted to see Jimmie. To make sure he was alright after the disaster that was dinner. After Nadia's stunt.
I'd sent a single message to Franco: "Bring him to the safe house."
That was all. Franco would know exactly who and what I meant. No questions.
And when I'd left Eleanor, muttering something about a "last-minute political emergency," she hadn't pressed. She never did. And that should have meant something, but right now, all I could think about was Jimmie's lips, Jimmie's breath, Jimmie's fire.
I was still lost in the fog of it when my phone buzzed violently on the nightstand.
Private line. No name. Just a number that made my blood chill.
Elder Throne.
I inhaled sharply before answering. I knew the tone I would hear even before the line connected.
"Hello, Alpha," the voice came sharp, commanding, and laced with restrained anger. "How long do you plan to keep ignoring your pack?"
My back stiffened, jaw clenching as my instincts surged. Elder Throne had always been like this, blunt, old-school, unmoved by politics or protocol.
"That's not how it looks, Elder," I replied coolly, swinging my legs off the bed. "You know the demands of my new position. It requires…"
"Extra attention?" Elder throne snapped. "At the detriment of your pack? Of your birthright?"
My wolf snarled within me. My Alpha senses flared. Challenged. That's what this was.
"I took this position because the council agreed it was necessary," I bit out, pacing slowly. "You, the other Elders, you all backed me. Said it would give us leverage in a world that still hunts us down like rabid dogs. Or have you forgotten?"
There was a pause. Just long enough for tension to crackle through the air.
Then Elder Throne spoke again, quieter but far more lethal.
"We backed you because we believed your mate was Eleanor. Because you lied to us."
I froze mid-step. Ice poured through my veins. My heart hammered against my ribs.
Throne didn't stop.
"We saw the footage, Devon. The hospital. The power surge. The boy."
I shut my eyes, rage tightening my throat. My hands balled into fists at my sides. Nadia. That snake. She had done more than stir the pot; she'd thrown it against the wall.
"And then your cousin shows up," Throne continued, his voice venomously calm. "Nadia had much to say. Too much."
I barely restrained a growl.
My wolf was stirring now. Angry. Threatened. Protective.
"We, the Elder Council of Woodland, are summoning you, Alpha Devon James," Throne declared. "You are to appear before us at the next full moon. And you are to bring your true mate. The boy."
My heart dropped.
Not a request. Not a suggestion.
A summons.
And for an Alpha, a summons from the council could only mean one thing: judgment.
And possibly… removal.
The line went dead.
I remained standing, phone still clutched in my hand, my breath coming harder now. My mind is racing.
They knew. They all knew. And now the Elders wanted to see me and Jimmie face to face.
I knew what this was. A trial. A reckoning. They would question my authority, my bond, my right to lead.
And if they found me unworthy?
If they declared the mate bond illegitimate or dangerous?
They'd strip me of everything. My seat. My title. My bloodright.
But worse, they could try to sever the bond.
My wolf snarled at the thought. I let him rumble in my chest, raw and deep, shaking my frame.
I would not allow it.
I would not lose Jimmie.
Not after finding him.
Not after finally feeling what being whole could be. Could look like.
—
Eleanor Pov
The meeting went smoothly. Almost too smoothly.
The sun filtering through the glass ceiling of the VIP private rooftop restaurant cast a warm, golden glow over the setting, making everything look pristine and perfect. The fresh orchids arranged on each table, the sound of a soft string quartet playing in the background, and the elegant chatter of dignitaries dining a few tables away, it was all curated to perfection.
But beneath that polished surface, something in me stirred.
Something... off.
I smiled anyway. I had learned to live with the duality of public grace and private storms. That was the cost of being Eleanor James, the First Lady of Astria.
"It was so nice of you to honour my invitation, Mrs. Avelina DuMonte," I said as we clinked glasses gently. The woman before me, elegant, poised, and perfectly powdered, gave a small, charming laugh.
"Oh, please," she said, brushing a soft curl away from her cheek. "Who wouldn't want the opportunity to sit with the First Lady of Astria? Thank you for having me."
"The pleasure is mine," I replied warmly, though I could feel the stiffness in my jaw. Smiles came easily. But authenticity? That was rarer these days.
"I hope the forthcoming event inspires the girl child," I continued. "Not just in Astria, but across every border where her voice has been silenced for too long."
Mrs. DuMonte nodded eagerly. "Yes. I believe it will. I can already see the vision taking shape, bright, powerful, unstoppable."
We both laughed a diplomatic chuckle. I noticed the small pause she made before lifting her cup again. She was assessing me. They all did. I was used to it.
"And my warm regards to the President," she added, gathering her purse and silk gloves with practised grace.
"Of course," I said, smiling that carefully worn smile that had been etched into my face since Devon took office. "My assistant, Jimmie, will see you out."
And just as I sank into the velvet-backed seat, I heard his familiar voice, gentle, respectful, polished:
"After you, ma'am."
I exhaled.
The moment they were gone, the calm facade I had worn like a second skin began to crack around the edges.
I sat there, alone in a place meant for luxury and light, but all I could feel was the unease inching its way through my spine. My hands, resting in my lap, curled into each other slightly, fingers intertwining the way one does when praying or preparing for battle.
Something was wrong.
I didn't know what it was exactly, couldn't name it, but it loomed. Close. Heavy. Familiar.
My gut never lied to me. Not when Devon lied.
Not when the press spun stories.
Not even when I looked in the mirror and told myself I was fine.
And now?
Now, it screamed.
Nadia.
That name alone made my blood curdle.
Devon's cousin— cunning, smooth, and dangerous. She hadn't come to pay a visit. No. Nadia had come with a purpose. And I knew that because of what she'd said last night over that glass of bitter red wine.
"Given how long Devon was away during those early years, I suppose… It's possible the kids don't take after him at all?"
She had laughed after saying it. Like it was a joke.
But it wasn't. Not to me.
Not when those words nearly caused me to drop my wine glass in front of everyone.
She knows.
Or at least, she suspects.
How? Why now?
That secret— my sin was supposed to be buried with me.
The truth?
My children aren't Devon's.
They never were.
Two beautiful, brilliant children. The pride of their Father. The image of a happy, powerful First Family.
And all of it a lie.
Devon was always away in those early years of our union, chasing business deals, making waves across continents, building the empire he now rules. And me? I was lonely. Vulnerable. Forgotten. Left in a gilded mansion filled with silence and servants.
And then came Jim Halvorsen.
The enemy. Devon's political rival. His sworn nemesis. A man who challenged everything Devon stood for on paper and in private.
But I didn't know that at first. Never did.
We met by chance at a charity gala. He was charming, attentive, everything Devon hadn't been in months. Then it happened again… and again. Until it became a fire I couldn't control.
One thing led to another… and I got pregnant.
I told Devon it was his. He was overjoyed.
I did it again. The second time, I almost told the truth, but the guilt buckled under the fear.
I cut things off with Jim the moment I realised he was running against my husband. That's when it hit me what I'd done wasn't just betrayal… it was treason against everything Devon stood for.
I vowed to carry the secret with me to my grave.
And I almost did until Nadia opened her damn mouth.
I swallowed the rising bile in my throat.
I would not fall apart.
Not here.
Not in public.
There was still Jimmie.
My assistant. The sweet, mild-mannered young man with soulful eyes who had been a lifeline in recent months. But there was something off… something I hadn't been able to place since that day at the hospital.
That moment. The shift.
He had looked at Devon with too much familiarity. And Devon had looked back like…
No.
I wasn't ready to go there. Not yet.
But my instincts were screaming.
There was something between them. Something unsaid.
And if I was right, if there was more Devon was hiding than I was, I needed to find out before it destroyed us both.
"Eleanor?"
Jimmie's voice brought me out of the abyss.
I blinked, realising I had zoned out completely. He was standing there, brow furrowed, concern in his tone.
"Are you okay?"
I cleared my throat, slowly composing myself as I dabbed the corners of my mouth with the linen napkin.
"Of course," I said, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine. Just… a little drained. What's next on the itinerary?"
He checked his tablet. "The Foundation visit downtown, followed by the evening gala prep."
"Perfect. Let's…"
But I never finished the sentence.
Because just as we turned toward the elevator, I heard it.
A voice I hadn't heard in a while.
Smooth. Male. Cocky. And too damn familiar.
"Hello, Eleanor," it said. Low. Knocking the breath out of me. "Still as graceful as ever."
I froze.
I didn't have to turn.
I knew who it was before I even saw him.
Jim Halvorsen.
The devil himself.
The man whose name had haunted every secret corner of my marriage. The man whose blood ran through the veins of my children.
The man I should've never looked at twice.
He stepped forward, smiling at me with that same smug confidence.
"Or should I say," he added, voice laced with mockery, "the beloved First Lady of Astria."
The restaurant tilted.
My stomach churned.
And for the first time in years, I felt fear.
Not of him.
But of what he might say next.