Devon's POV
This woman must be crazy.
That was all I could think as I sat at the dinner table, watching the wreckage Nadia was so effortlessly creating with every word she uttered—cool, calm, calculated. I glanced at Jimmie. He looked like he wanted to strangle her with his dinner napkin. Hell, I wouldn't have stopped him.
Nadia leaned in again, her fork slicing lazily through the salad she'd barely touched. Her voice came like smoke, soft and sharp.
"Oh? Did the question take you by surprise?"
Jimmie's glare could have burned holes in her skin. If looks could kill, she'd be ash on the floor. But instead, she smiled—cocky, smug, knowing.
That smile set something off in me. Enough.
"That's enough, Nadia!" I snapped, my voice echoing louder than I meant. Everyone went still.
"You've done enough," I said again, more grounded, my gaze hard on her. Her expression didn't flinch—but I saw the faint twitch of her jaw. Good.
Eleanor, composed as always, moved with grace toward Jimmie, placing a hand on his shoulder like a quiet shield. Her voice was warm and concerned. "Are you okay?"
Jimmie cleared his throat, his voice slightly hoarse. "I'm fine. Just need to… use the restroom for a bit."
He didn't wait for a reply, excusing himself with what little dignity the moment allowed. His glass still shook slightly from where he left it. As he walked out, Nadia, without even blinking, turned her attention back to the table.
"These things happen," she said airily, sipping her wine as if she hadn't just thrown a grenade into the room.
I clenched my fists beneath the table.
The silence that followed was tight—pulled like a wire between us—until she broke it again, smooth as poison.
"So tell me, Eleanor," she said, tilting her head with faux curiosity, "how did you and Devon meet? I never got the chance to see you when he introduced you to the family."
Family. She said it like it meant something twisted.
Eleanor straightened, her hand still resting on mine. She smiled—a genuine one this time—and glanced at me. "We met many years ago. Unexpectedly. I was at a benefit gala, bored out of my mind. Devon had just returned from a diplomatic trip. He looked so… intense. I remember wondering if he ever smiled."
I could feel her thumb gently rubbing over my hand. A comfort. A memory.
"I told him his tie was hideous," she laughed lightly. "And he told me I was the first person who had ever dared say that to him. We talked all night after that."
I gave her a small smile, matching her energy, because it was real. What we had built, even if it was fragile beneath the surface, had history. It had intent.
Nadia smiled too. But not with her eyes.
"And you have two kids?" she asked lightly, swirling her wine.
Eleanor nodded, her hand tightening slightly on mine. "Yes. Aria and Nathaniel. They're wonderful."
Her voice beamed with pride. But I could feel her tension—the shift was small, but I caught it.
"Where are they, tho? I can't seem to see them around," Nadia said, glancing all over as if searching for what isn't lost.
"Oh, they are in boarding school. Precautions," Eleanor had simply said.
Nadia leaned back, tilting her head. "Adorable, I bet. With eyes like yours… and Devon's temper, I imagine," she chuckled.
But then she paused. Just long enough to twist the knife.
"Although…" She tapped her glass slowly. "Given how long Devon was away during those early years, I suppose… It's possible they don't take after him at all?"
The world tilted just slightly.
I didn't breathe. I felt Eleanor freeze beside me—not visibly, but I knew her. I knew the way her pulse fluttered beneath her wrist. I knew when she was holding herself together by sheer force of will.
Her hand in mine had gone cold. And tighter.
My stomach coiled.
There was silence—thick, choking silence—and I wanted to throw something. Not for the insinuation itself. But for the fact that Eleanor felt it. That it landed.
I turned to Nadia, my voice low and laced with warning.
"You're dancing on fire, Nadia."
She only smiled. "Relax, cousin. It was just a joke."
It wasn't. And we all knew it.
From the hallway, I heard the soft echo of Jimmie's footsteps returning. He re-entered the room just as Nadia lifted her glass again, full of venom disguised as charm.
When Jimmie returned, he didn't sit.
He just stood there, shoulders drawn, face paler than it had been moments ago. He cleared his throat once, gaze sweeping over the table like he wasn't quite sure if he was awake or trapped in some twisted nightmare.
"I… I have to leave," he said to Eleanor. "Something came up. Family emergency."
I could hear it in his voice—something cracked. His usual confidence had been wiped clean, replaced by something frayed at the edges. He was shaken. Badly.
I didn't miss the flicker of satisfaction in Nadia's eyes as she watched him speak—her lips curled ever so slightly. It wasn't just pride. It was a triumph. She'd landed something. Dug her claws into a wound he hadn't known was there until she touched it.
She had accomplished something. Something precise. Calculated.
Eleanor, visibly still piecing herself back together after Nadia's barbed suggestion about the children, smiled with practised politeness.
"Of course, Jimmie," she said softly. "Thank you for staying… See you tomorrow."
Jimmie gave a short nod, eyes catching mine for a fraction of a second.
It was enough.
I understood him. He understood me.
And then Nadia smiled again—slow, sinister.
"Oh, I do hope I'll see more of you," she said sweetly, tone layered with something dark. "This world is much smaller than it seems."
Something about the way she said it made the air tighten in my chest. Jimmie didn't respond. He simply turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him like the last beat of a bad omen.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone and texted Franco.
"Who's that?" Eleanor asked, noticing the device in my hand.
"Work," I muttered, slipping it back into my coat.
Then I turned my gaze to Nadia. The words came out colder than I intended—but I didn't regret them.
"I think it's time you left. You might've overstayed your welcome."
Eleanor gasped lightly. Ever the gracious wife, she stepped in like she always did, trying to smooth what could not be smoothed.
"Nadia, I don't know if you've already got a place to stay tonight… You're welcome here if—"
"She'll sort herself out," I cut in, voice like steel. "She always does."
I didn't break eye contact with Nadia. Not once.
"There's no room for her in this house."
Eleanor's eyes widened. "Devon…"
She didn't recognise the fire burning behind my calm exterior. Or maybe she did. But Nadia understood. She always did.
She smiled. That same saccharine smile she wore when she was about to destroy something. Then she stood, gently placing her napkin down as though none of this bothered her at all.
She walked over to Eleanor with the grace of a duchess and pulled her into a light embrace.
"Thank you," she said sweetly. "It was a wonderful evening. Lovely to see you, Eleanor."
Then she leaned back slightly, eyes soft but too rehearsed, and added, "And I'm truly sorry about the joke earlier—about the children. My humour… can be a little careless sometimes."
I saw it—the way Eleanor's body tensed ever so slightly.
A beat. Then a weak smile. "It's nothing."
It wasn't.
Nadia stepped away and exited the dining room without even looking at me.
I watched her go. Silent. Still.
Then I stood, kissed Eleanor lightly on the cheek, and murmured, "I'll walk her out."
She didn't stop me.
I caught up with Nadia near the elevator, her heels echoing in the corridor like a ticking clock.
I grabbed her arm. Not rough. Just enough. And I pulled her down a narrow passage off the main hallway, out of view. No struggle. She followed, smiling.
God, that smirk.
I backed her against the wall, one hand pressing beside her head. My eyes burned gold—rage barely leashed beneath my skin.
"I don't know what sick game you're playing, Nadia," I whispered harshly, voice shaking with fury, "but you will leave my wife, my family, and my mate out of your mouth and your damn games. You get me?"
She didn't answer. Just stared up at me, calm as ice in winter.
Then, slowly, she pushed me back with one hand and adjusted the front of her dress, brushing off invisible dust as if I'd somehow dirtied her with the contact.
Then she laughed. Quiet. Cold.
"My Mate?" she echoed. "So we've accepted the boy into the family now?"
She stepped closer, head tilting like a predator circling a wounded deer.
"Shall we tell Eleanor about it?" she whispered, wildness glittering in her eyes.
My throat tightened.
"You see, Devon," she continued, "you're in a mess. A big one. And I'm rather excited to see how you plan to crawl your way out of it. The good goddess placed you here for a reason, didn't she? Divine punishment, maybe?" She laughed again. "What was that human saying…? Karma's a—?"
"Stop," I growled.
But she leaned in closer, her breath brushing my ear.
"You were right about one thing, cousin. There's a game. A good one. But I haven't started yet."
She pulled back, a smile stretching just enough to make my stomach twist.
"And trust me when I say this—you're not the only one keeping secrets in this circle."
I shoved her back—not to hurt her, but to force space between us.
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
Her eyes searched mine like she was deciding how much rope to give me.
Then she reached up, smoothed the edge of my lapel with an irritating tenderness, and said, "Oh, you'll see… sweet cousin of mine."
Then she stepped back and—
Let her wolf flare.
It was brief. Just enough for the air to crackle, for her aura to thunder through the corridor.
Before I could brace myself, she shoved past me and walked off with that same haunting elegance, her heels echoing like distant thunder in the hallway.
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
I stood frozen. Breath ragged.
Her words rang through my head, over and over again:
"You're not the only one keeping secrets in this circle."
My jaw clenched. My wolf—furious—howled inside my chest. I hated her. Hated what she stirred in me. Hated the chaos that clung to her like perfume.
A beep vibrated in my pocket.
Franco.
"Done."
I closed my eyes. Took a breath.
Whatever tonight had become, it had only scratched the surface. Nadia wasn't here to visit.
She was here to unravel.
And deep in my gut, I knew—
This wasn't just the beginning of a game.
It was the beginning of the war.