Devon James
Ever since Eleanor's outburst in the study, sleep had become an illusion I could no longer afford. Not because I didn't want it. But because it simply refused to come. My body would lie in bed, but my mind remained a storm. Awake. Grinding. Gnawing.
I was unravelling.
Restless.
But the strange part was—my wolf wasn't.
At least, not in the way I expected. He wasn't pacing. He wasn't fighting me to shift or take over. He was still. Quiet. Watching.
Agitated, yes. But calm in the way a predator crouches in tall grass, eyes locked on prey. Waiting. Hungry.
I'd never seen him like this before—composed, but seething beneath the surface. A quiet madness. Like he was waiting for something… or someone.
And I knew exactly what had cracked him open like this.
The rejection.
From him.
Our mate.
He called us a monster.
Refused us. Denied us.
And while I still hadn't said the words out loud, my wolf had heard them through me—Jimmie's voice echoing in our shared soul. It suffocated him. It suffocated me.
Some nights, it felt like he couldn't breathe. Which meant I couldn't breathe.
I was being torn apart from the inside out.
And outside?
My marriage was hanging by a frayed thread.
My children... distant.
My country... waiting. Watching.
Today was August 18th. Republic Day in Astria.
A day of pride. Of power. Of unity.
The day Astria was born from its chains and stood among the world powers as an equal.
The Open Square, right in the heart of Velmon, was unrecognisable. A sea of people stretched in every direction, shoulder to shoulder, draped in the golden and green colours of Astria's flag. Children waved tiny flags, adults chanted old victory songs, drums pounded, and the air was thick with incense and the scent of roasted corn from street vendors. Press, journalists, paparazzi—lined up in their zones like vultures circling overhead. Eyes. Always eyes.
But none of it reached me.
Not really.
I sat beside Eleanor in our presidential booth—one of many luxurious structures built to overlook the Square. Our seats, raised slightly above the crowd, were flanked by bulletproof glass panels and high-ranking security. Franco stood at the front, eyes scanning, jaw locked, his ears tuned to every shift in sound like a hawk circling its prey.
To my right, Eleanor.
Poised. Elegant. Dressed in a tailored emerald gown that complemented her golden-toned skin, the national colours were subtly threaded through her scarf. A picture-perfect First Lady. Smiling. Waving. Radiating calm.
You'd never know she'd threatened to walk out on me three days ago. That she'd left my study with eyes full of fire and tears I was too broken to wipe.
Her hand rested on mine, fingers perfectly laced—as if we were a united front.
To the people, maybe we were.
To me? I was a mess in a tailored suit.
My skin itched under the fabric of the deep navy presidential regalia—golden Astrian crest stitched onto my left breast pocket, a sash hung across my chest. My collar was too tight, my lungs too shallow.
I was suffocating.
Jimmie was still missing, hadn't returned to work yet. Weeks. No word. And Eleanor—God, Eleanor—was hiding something. She was too composed. Too... quiet. Like she knew something I didn't.
And my wolf?
He was getting worse. Clawing now. Biting. Scratching the inside of my ribs, whimpering like he was dying. The silver withdrawals had amplified— yeah, I stopped taking them, or rather, they stopped working anymore. My body, my nerves—every limb shook beneath stillness. I could feel it—his need. His desperation. For contact. For a scent. For a mate who wanted nothing to do with him.
I was losing strength. I was losing the fight.
And the world was dancing.
Music. Loud, defiant rhythms poured from the national orchestra. An improvised troupe had just finished performing a tribute—a dance commemorating fallen heroes, warriors who bled to give Astria the democracy it now stood on. Their costumes sparkled under the sun, glittering gold and crimson, bodies moving in a seamless choreography of past and present.
Then the stage quieted.
The moderator's voice boomed over the loudspeakers.
"And now… the moment we've all been waiting for. Our President. The leader of Astria. The man who has led us through darkness into strength. Please rise for… His Excellency, President Devon James!"
Applause exploded around us.
The crowd roared like thunder.
"Devon James! Devon James! Devon James!"
I rose slowly, my legs unsteady.
Before stepping away, I turned to Eleanor and pressed a stiff kiss to her cheek. I felt it then—my wolf's growl. Vivid. Angry. Loud inside me. That wasn't our mate. Not truly. Never was. He snapped inside, repulsed.
Still, the crowd cheered louder.
I walked toward the podium as Franco and his team shifted, tightening their formation. Strategic, invisible moves. Like clockwork.
Hands reached toward me from the barricades. Cameras flashed like lightning. The heat of the sun bore down, but I was already drenched in sweat.
When I reached the podium, I grabbed its edges to keep my hands from shaking. My mouth tasted of blood and guilt.
I raised one hand to quiet the masses. It took a moment, but the chanting stilled, replaced by a respectful silence.
I looked out at my people—smiling, hopeful, unaware.
And I began.
"My beloved Astrians... today we celebrate not just a date on a calendar, but the very soul of our nation. The triumph of unity over oppression. The strength of will over doubt. On this day, decades ago, we chose freedom. And with it, the courage to forge our destiny…"
My voice echoed across the square.
"We stand tall among giants because we never forgot who we were. Farmers. Builders. Dreamers. Warriors. Families. We bled together. We rose together. And today… We thrive together."
Applause.
I forced a smile. Forced breath.
"But the future… the future isn't built by governments or symbols alone. It's built on truth. It's built by the hard, often painful, choices we make to become more, more than we were yesterday…"
I stopped.
The podium shifted.
Or maybe it was me.
A sharp, piercing stab exploded in my gut.
My wolf wailed. Loud. Uncontainable. A howl so guttural, it felt like my organs were being torn from the inside.
Then… a snap.
As if something essential inside me had fractured.
Broken.
The strength drained from my legs.
I stumbled forward, grabbing for the mic, but missing.
The crowd gasped.
I heard it.
I heard Eleanor scream my name.
"Devon!"
The world tilted sideways.
Black. Everything—black.
Then nothing.