Devon's POV
It had been a strange morning. The kind where the walls felt like they were pressing in, like the air in the room was thinner than it should be. I'd buried myself in numbers, policies, and speeches, trying to push the pounding inside my head down… down where the beast couldn't reach.
But he was there, stirring. Growling softly under my skin like a threat or a warning. Always present now.
I was halfway through editing Eleanor's statement for next week's UN envoy when the door burst open without a knock.
Marcy.
My secretary, usually calm, composed, and robotic in her efficiency, looked like she'd run through a hurricane. Her blonde hair was slightly undone from its perfect bun, strands clinging to her temples. She held a tablet in her hands like it might explode.
Franco came in right behind her. Broad, ever-silent Franco… but today, his jaw was tight, his face unreadable in a way that made my gut twist.
I sat up straighter behind the desk, trying to rein in the beast that reacted to any sudden movement like it was a threat.
"What's going on?" I asked, voice calm but clipped.
Franco didn't answer me directly. His eyes snapped to Marcy. "Turn it on."
She didn't even ask what it was. She just hurried to the far side of the room and tapped the remote. The large screen on my office wall flickered to life. News. Live.
That's when Franco finally spoke—his voice low, but taut with tension. "You need to see this."
I turned toward the screen just as the face of Jim Halvorsen filled it.
And my stomach dropped.
He was seated comfortably, legs crossed in his stupid polished shoes, looking far too confident for a man who'd just lost his bid for power. The interviewer, a petite brunette with the kind of forced cheerfulness that made my teeth ache, leaned forward, trying to prod something sharp from him.
"Senator Halvorsen, you came very close to securing Astria's highest office. That loss, especially considering how tight the race was, —how does it sit with you now?"
Jim didn't even flinch. He smiled—smiled—like the smug bastard he was.
"Politics isn't a game of sore losers, Veronica," he said smoothly. "You win some, you lose some. But Astria made a choice. I respect that. Or at least… I'm trying to."
I leaned forward in my chair, my hands curling into fists on the armrest.
The reporter tilted her head. "Trying to?"
Jim leaned in slightly, face taking on that grave, performative expression he was so good at. "I love my country, Veronica. Which is why I can't help but be concerned by… the lack of transparency we've been seeing. A President who's been reclusive. Absent. Rumours of medical incidents. Fatigue. Strange absences. Missed meetings."
"You're referring to the wellness rumours?" she asked.
Jim gave a mock shrug. "Allegedly. Of course." He chuckled softly, like it was a joke. "But I think Astria deserves better than 'allegedly'. The people deserve clarity. Leadership. Not… sedation."
My heart stopped. Heat roared into my chest.
Did he just—?
"Are you implying something specific?" the reporter asked, suddenly cautious.
Jim turned to the camera like he was speaking straight to the nation.
"I'm implying that if the current administration doesn't get a grip, we may need to consider a vote of no confidence. Allegedly."
The last word was said like poison. And even the interviewer blinked, clearly rattled.
My wolf surged forward, snarling in my ears. My body went rigid with fury.
"How dare he?" I growled, rising from my seat so fast the chair slid back. "What right does he have to say that?"
Marcy gasped audibly. Franco moved fast.
"Marcy—out. Now."
"But—"
"Now!" he barked. "And start prepping a statement. Something that kills this fire today. Damage control, now."
Marcy nodded and all but bolted from the room.
I turned away from the screen as Jim's smug expression lingered on the feed. My hands were shaking. My heart pounded. My wolf wanted blood.
Franco waited until the door clicked shut before speaking again. "Devon, you need to get control of yourself. Before this gets worse."
I stared at him, breathing hard.
"He's trying to paint me as weak," I said through clenched teeth. "He's waiting for me to fall. And— I-I've been—"
"Slipping," Franco finished for me, quiet but firm. "Yeah. You have."
I closed my eyes. For a long second, I didn't speak.
Maybe I had.
Between the late nights, the restlessness, the sleepless urges clawing at my gut, the ache for something I couldn't name aloud—someone—I had let my grip falter. And now Halvorsen was seizing it.
"I should take a break," I said, more to myself than him. "Go to the island for a while. Like you said."
The beast inside me snapped its teeth. A violent growl rattled my ribs. I winced.
"No," Franco said immediately, stepping closer. "No. If you disappear now, you'll prove every damn thing he just hinted at. You'll confirm it. You'll hand him the narrative on a silver platter."
"I'm not hiding," I snapped, voice laced with the low rumble of my wolf.
Franco didn't flinch. He raised his hands in surrender, then exhaled slowly. "I know. I know you're not. But Devon, listen to me."
His eyes locked on mine. "You've been off. Angry. Tense. And something's eating you alive—you think I can't see that?"
I said nothing.
"You won't talk to me. You won't tell me what it is. Fine. But you need to fix it. Get control. We need the Devon James that doesn't roll over. That fight. That takes the damn table and turns it upside down."
I turned away from him. My back was to the window now, my chest heaving.
"I'm with you," Franco said, his voice softening. "You know that. I've always had your back. You don't owe me the truth. But if you don't figure this out—if you don't fight whatever this is—you're going to lose more than the presidency."
And just as he reached for the doorknob, about to leave…
I smelled it.
That scent.
Him.
It hit me like a brick wall—stronger than before, intoxicating, unmistakable. Cinnamon and warmth and rain-soaked earth. My hands twitched at my sides.
Jimmie was still in the building.
Close.
Too close.
My pulse surged. My wolf, who had been restless and rattling the cage all morning, roared now—Mine. The word echoed like thunder inside my skull.
I stumbled back a step, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady myself.
Franco looked at me, brow raised. "Dev?"
I didn't answer.
Couldn't.
Because all I could think, feel, breathe was him.
And I knew…
This wasn't going to get easier.
Not now.
Not ever.