JIMMIE POV
All I could think about was leaving.
Just getting out of there.
Away from him. Away from her. Away from the suffocating luxury of those goddamn suites that somehow managed to make me feel like dirt.
I stood by the valet drop-off—marble floors gleaming under moonlight, artificial warmth curling around my chest like a choking scarf—as I waited for my ride. But nothing felt warm. My hands were still clammy from dinner. My throat was still tight from the way she looked at me. The way she spoke to me.
Nadia.
That woman was a beast cloaked in silk. A wolf in red lipstick and weaponised charm. I could feel it-no, no, I knew it now. She was one of them. A werewolf. I wasn't crazy. She'd called Devon an Alpha—in front of Eleanor, no less. What the hell was she playing at?
And then—that question. That loaded little question she threw my way like a grenade wrapped in velvet. She knew. She knew. There was no denying it anymore.
Great. Just great.
I let out a silent groan and dragged a palm down my face, trying to remember how to breathe.
I need to talk to him.
Devon. We needed to have that conversation. The one we'd both been avoiding. Because right now? I didn't know what the hell I was doing. What being "mated" to a werewolf fully meant. Or my pact in all this. All I knew was this felt like a ride I couldn't get off, and I wasn't sure if I was strapped in tight or already dangling off the edge.
Where the hell is my ride?
My phone buzzed. I flinched, then glanced down.
Clementine.
Perfect.
I answered. "Clem?"
"Finally, Jimmie. I was two seconds from dragging your sorry ass outta that vampire palace myself. You alive or what?"
A breath escaped my lips—half a laugh, half a sigh. "Barely. But yeah, I'm on my way."
"You don't sound like it. Don't lie to me, J. Your voice has that weird thing it does when you're faking calm."
"It's just been...a night."
"A night with Eleanor?"
"And her entire family."
"Oh hell. That bad, huh?"
Clementine went quiet for a moment. "You need to come home."
"I'm trying," I said, eyes scanning for the car. "I—"
A sleek black car rolled up in front of me. I blinked.
"Hold on, Clem. My ride's here—I think."
"It better be! Don't you get in with anyone shady—"
"I'll call you back."
"Jimmie—!"
I hung up.
The car wasn't the one I was expecting— the one Eleanor specifically requested to drop me off at home anytime I work late, since the Kidnapping.
Tinted windows. Quiet engine. Too smooth. Too...intentional.
I bent to peek inside the window, but I couldn't see a damn thing.
Then I circled toward the driver's side—and froze.
Franco stepped out.
Dressed in a tailored black suit. Rigid. Silent.
"Franco?"
He didn't answer at first. Just opened the passenger door like a chauffeur. Like I was already expecting.
"Where's my ride?" I asked. "And what are you doing here?"
"Get in, Jimmie," he said flatly.
"Get into...what? Where are we going?"
Franco stepped closer. "Get in. Don't make a scene. I'll explain on the way."
I studied him. His expression was carved from stone. No hint of warmth. No lie, either.
My heart drummed a little louder.
Still, I got in.
The silence in the car was suffocating.
Franco gripped the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from losing control. Eyes locked on the road, jaw tight. His suit barely wrinkled with movement. He looked like a man built for discipline—and one who didn't particularly enjoy my company.
I glanced sideways.
He'd always been distant. Civil, sure, but...distant. Like I was a stranger he couldn't quite trust. Or maybe didn't want to.
"So," I tried, voice low. "Where are you taking me?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then, after a long pause, "I'm bringing you to him."
I didn't need to ask who.
I swallowed hard.
A part of me had been hoping to talk to Devon soon.
But not like this.
Not straight after dinner, after the fire Nadia had lit in the room, still burned in my lungs.
I'm not ready.
And yet… here we were.
I glanced out the window. We were leaving the city fast. Asphalt fading into winding roads. Shadows from the trees were dancing across the windshield.
Then it hit me.
If Franco was taking me somewhere off-grid... he knew. All of it. From the hospital. From the Kidnap. From the bond.
I exhaled, frustrated. Then asked before I could stop myself:
"What do you think about all this?"
Franco didn't even flinch. He just stared ahead, stoic. I almost regretted asking. Almost.
But then, he spoke, eyes still on the road.
"Fate," he said, voice like gravel. "Fate is a cruel thing. Sometimes, you don't get to write it. Most times... You don't get to escape it either. All you can do is trust the process. Or be destroyed by it."
His words hit something inside me. Something raw.
I didn't respond.
I couldn't.
I just stared out the window, swallowing the lump rising in my throat.
Devon was my fate now. A fate I didn't ask for. A fate I didn't understand. But also, a fate I wasn't ready to let go of—not yet.
We drove deeper into the unknown. Past parts of Astria I didn't even know existed. Rolling hills, winding woods, the air turning colder. Sharper. Like it belonged to another world.
Then, the gates.
Huge. Steel. Etched with old runes I didn't understand.
They groaned open as we approached, revealing a house—no, a home. Big, but not loud. Tucked beneath towering trees, its stonework hidden beneath ivy and shadow. It was elegant, but simple. No golden chandeliers. No flashy decadence. Just clean lines, warm lights, and the quiet confidence of a man who didn't need to prove anything.
Franco parked outside the front terrace and got out. I followed, still absorbing it all.
The path leading in was beautiful—polished stone and wood, lanterns casting a gentle glow. Wind rustled through the trees, the scent of pine and earth grounding me.
Inside, the silence was softer. Softer than the car. Softer than anything.
Franco gestured toward a set of chairs by the hearth. "Wait here."
I sat down slowly, heart a little too fast, nerves a little too frayed.
"Where is he?" I asked.
"He'll be with you soon," Franco said. "I'll be outside."
He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else—but didn't. He just left.
And I was alone.
I sat there, watching the flames flicker across the stones. Listening to the quiet. The calm.
I didn't even hear the sound of footsteps at first. My mind was too loud, screaming doubts and crashing waves of confusion. But something pulled me from the noise. A shift in the air. A presence. Heavy. Powerful. Familiar.
I turned—and there he was.
Devon.
Still in the suit pants from dinner, his white dress shirt now unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, veins like rivers down strong forearms. No jacket. No tie. Just the rawness of a man undone. A little wild, a little weary—but still breathtaking.
For a second, I forgot to breathe.
My heart gave a painful flutter in my chest as pride filled me like light in a dark room. That's him. That's my mate.
This man—part wolf, part myth—was fated to me.
He looked like something carved from marble and brought to life. A Greek god in a world that didn't deserve him. And yet, here he was… walking towards me.
I swallowed hard. Focus, Jimmie… This isn't a dream.
He stopped just inches away—close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, but his hands stayed clenched at his sides like he was fighting some invisible war not to reach for me. His body taut, jaw set, eyes searching my face like I held the answers to questions he hadn't dared ask.
"Jimmie," he said. My name sounded like a prayer and apology in his voice. It shook me from my trance.
I blinked. "What am I doing here, Devon?" My voice came out firmer than I expected.
He didn't flinch. "It was essential we talk," he said softly, eyes gentle. "After what went down tonight… at dinner… I needed to check on you."
My heart stuttered.
He cares.
God, what is wrong with me? That shouldn't mean so much. But it did.
I masked it quickly, pushing my emotions down where they couldn't betray me. "You didn't have to. I can take care of myself."
He smirked. Not in mockery. Just… knowing.
Then he reached for me. Slowly. Carefully. And when his fingers laced into mine, I let him.
And that spark—
That same electric hum that danced beneath my skin the first time we touched—it surged through me again.
But this time, I didn't flinch.
I let it burn.
"Walk with me," he said, gently tugging me along.
We walked through a quiet hallway, his thumb rubbing soothing, circular patterns on my hand. Neither of us spoke. The silence wasn't awkward—it was weighted. Full of things we couldn't say yet.
He led me through a tall, arched doorway that opened up to a moonlit terrace. And it was… breathtaking.
The moon hung high and round above us, casting silver shadows across the tiled floor. Plants draped from walls like green waterfalls, their leaves catching moonlight like stars. Modern lighting was embedded discreetly in the walls—tech and nature dancing in harmony.
It felt sacred.
Devon sat on a low, cushioned sofa and gestured for me to join him. I did. Close. Facing him.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Just silence, and the sound of our hearts trying to find rhythm.
Then he exhaled slowly and said, "Life has a cruel sense of humour sometimes."
I turned my head toward him, listening.
"When I met Eleanor," he began, his voice low, "she was everything I thought I needed in a woman. Smart. Elegant. Poised. Someone the Pack could respect. Someone I could… build with."
He paused, swallowed. "But I could never love her completely. Something was missing. I didn't know what it was. But my wolf… he never stirred. Not once."
I didn't interrupt. Just sat still. Soaking in his words.
"I waited. Thought maybe it would change. Maybe love was learned." He chuckled bitterly. "It wasn't. I tried to treat it like a phase. A moment. But deep down, I was waiting. For my mate. For you."
His eyes flicked to mine, then looked away.
"I waited so long that it turned to frustration. And through it all, Eleanor was there. Loyal. But my mate… never came. And I was on the verge of losing everything. My seat is as Alpha. My Pack. My legacy."
I felt my throat tighten.
"My parents were killed by Hunters," he said suddenly.
I gasped—quietly. My hand tightened slightly in his. But I didn't speak. I let him keep going.
"I was next in line. But without a mate, I wasn't 'worthy' in their eyes. Our Pack believes in bloodlines. In sacred bonds. A mated Alpha is revered. Trusted."
He looked at me then, so openly vulnerable it hurt.
"I lied to them. Told them Eleanor was my mate. Introduced her to the pack disguised as family. Took back my seat… but I lost my wolf."
I held my breath. The weight of that was immense.
"He rejected her," Devon continued. "Refused to accept her. And with every command I gave, every lie I lived, he grew angrier. Wilder. I was losing him." He looked down at his palms. "So I poisoned myself. Wolfsbane and Silver Sulfate. Two substances that could kill a wolf. But I needed peace. I needed my wolf to shut up. To stop haunting me."
My chest ached.
This man, this strong, stoic man, was unravelling before me.
"I hoped I'd never find my mate. Because by then, I'd convinced myself it was too late. That it would destroy everything I'd built. Then you… walked into my life."
He looked at me fully now.
"And I knew I was wrong."
His voice cracked then. "Now I'm lost, Jimmie."
I felt it. All of it. Like his pain became mine. I wanted to look away, but I didn't. I couldn't.
"I tried to push you away," he whispered. "When you rejected me…"
I looked away this time. Guilt hit me like a punch to the gut.
Devon noticed. He gently took my chin and turned my face back to him.
"Don't be like that," he said, soft but firm. "You did what any reasonable human would've done."
I stared at him. Studied every inch of his face—the sadness in his eyes, the sharp cut of his jaw, the way the moonlight kissed his skin. I was starting to see him. Not just the Alpha. Not just the myth.
The man.
The boy who lost his parents.
The wolf who was denied his mate.
"So what happens now?" I whispered. "Where do we go from here? You can't have me… but you can't let me go either. And… honestly?" I swallowed hard. "I don't think I'm ready to let you go either. Not without knowing."
Devon sat straighter. His gaze deepened.
"I can't promise you anything right now, Jimmie," he said. "Because I'm scared. Scared of how far I might go for you."
Something fluttered in me.
"Then let's go one step at a time," I said. Surprising even me. "Let's learn what this is. Let's… unravel whatever fate has thrown our way."
He blinked, stunned by my softness.
"I understand the pressure with Eleanor. The legacy. The Pack. We didn't choose this fate, Devon. But we have it. And maybe… maybe that means something."
I leaned closer. "Besides, you need me."
Devon raised a brow, half amused.
"You do," I whispered. "You need me to keep your wolf sane. To stay in control."
I paused. "And I… need you too."
He inhaled sharply. Something shifted behind his eyes. A stillness. Then—
"It won't be easy," he warned. "Your life… my life… is at stake."
"At stake?" I asked, my heart thudding.
He nodded. "Remember the leaked footage from the hospital?"
I nodded slowly.
"I'm pretty sure it's in the wrong hands now."
"By wrong hands, you mean… the Hunters," I said, my voice thin.
"Yes. And they're not like regular humans. They've seen the video. They know you're my mate."
A chill raced down my spine.
"Is that why Nadia's here?" I asked.
"In a way, yes," he replied. "But that's a story for another night."
I nodded. The weight of reality hit like a hammer.
This wasn't just a forbidden romance.
This was war.
Pack politics. Hunters. Eleanor. The world.
I closed my eyes, overwhelmed.
Then I felt it—Devon's hand cupping my cheek.
"Look at me," he said gently. "I won't let anything happen to you. I'll protect you with everything I've got. I just need to get my wolf under control… sort things out with the Elders before Nadia escalates this."
I nodded, slowly. Finally understanding. He wasn't just fighting for us—he was fighting everything.
And despite how unsure it all felt, I found myself leaning forward—driven by instinct, by bond, by something bigger than logic.
"Then let's make things right with your wolf first," I whispered. And I kissed him.
His lips were warm. Startled at first. But then, his arms were around me. Tight. Certain. He kissed me back like he had been waiting forever. Like it hurt not to.
There was passion.
There was a need.
There was want.
And the moon bore witness to our beginning.
Two broken pieces trying to form a whole.
Two fates colliding under the sky.
A wolf and his mate—lost, but not alone.
Not anymore.