MAEVE'S POV
[ONE MONTH EARLIER]
My last stop on my healing excursion was Crimson Bridge Pack.
The pack's alpha—one of Devon's allies—had been suffering from a crippling illness for months.
By the time I was done tending to him, he was sitting up in bed, already asking for dinner.
"Thank you, Maeve," Luna Cressida said as she walked me to my car, her gratitude evident in her warm expression. "Once again, Crimson Bridge Pack is in your debt."
I smiled, slipping behind the wheel. "It's fine. I'm merely doing my job."
"It's baffling how you can still be so humble, considering you're the best healer in the kingdom."
I laughed lightly. "I try."
"If you ever need a favor, remember—you have strong allies in my household."
"Thank you. I'm sure Devon will be pleased to hear that."
"Of course," Cressida grinned. "He has every reason to be pleased. He bagged a wolf like you as his Luna."
I rolled my eyes playfully. "You flatter me, Cressida."
With our farewells exchanged, I waved one last time before driving off, heading home.
By the time I pulled into the driveway of the Dark Wind Packhouse, the rain had turned into a downpour.
Without an umbrella, I jumped out of the car, sprinting for the front doors.
The house was eerily quiet.
The only sound was the rattling of the windows as the storm pounded against the shutters.
Most days, the packhouse was filled with noise and movement—conversations, laughter, training sessions.
But tonight, the storm had forced everyone into their rooms early.
Asha was most likely asleep in his bedroom.
I planned to check on him.
But first—I needed to see Devon. I had been apart from him all day, and I missed him.
I also couldn't wait to tell him about our growing alliance with Crimson Bridge, all thanks to my healing abilities.
Knowing Devon, I knew he would be pleased.
A small smile played on my lips as I climbed the stairs toward his study.
Halfway up—my phone rang.
Devon.
Speak of the devil.
I answered, already grinning. "Hello? Dev, honey?"
His voice rumbled through the line. "Maeve."
I could hear the smirk in his voice. Such a Devon move.
"I heard you come in a few minutes ago," he murmured. "How was Crimson Bridge?"
"Eventful," I quipped, my smile widening. "I'm actually on my way to your study to tell you all about it."
"It can wait." His tone shifted—serious.
I paused mid-step.
"Is everything okay? Are you okay?"
There was a brief silence before he spoke.
"Come to the throne room, Maeve. That's where I am."
A small shiver ran down my spine. Something about his voice felt… off.
"Okay," I said slowly. "I'm on my way."
* * *
Devon was reclining against his throne casually, waiting for my arrival. A glass of rum dangled idly from his right hand, his posture both feral and grim.
I entered the throne room, my hair still damp from the rain, my chest rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath.
"Hey," I heaved, pushing my wet curls back. "Sorry for my disheveled look. I never could have predicted the storm tonight—else I would have brought an umbrella."
Devon let out a deep sigh. "Maeve."
He rose from his high seat, taking long, measured strides toward me.
I tilted my head to meet his gaze and froze.
His eyes were red-rimmed and sunken. There was no easy smile waiting for me, no teasing warmth. That was a first.
"Hey." I cupped his face with my cold hands, pressing my palms against his cheeks, closing the space between us.
His skin was warm. Warmer than usual.
"Are you okay?" My voice dropped to a whisper. "You look pale. Are you sick? Is it Asha? Is he sick?"
My heartbeat spiked. The thought of Asha bedridden, sick or helpless, sent a wave of cold terror through me.
"Asha's fine," Devon reassured me. Some of the tightness in my chest eased.
"Then what is it?" I growled, frustration creeping in. "You've got two seconds to fill me in, Devon Lockwood, or I swear—"
I punctuated my words with a heated glare.
Any other day, Devon would have graced my irritation with a smirk, a kiss, a teasing remark. Not today.
Instead, he took my hands, holding them firmly in his. His gaze darkened.
"I know who you are, Maeve."
My stomach dropped.
"What?" My voice came out small. "What are you talking about? I don't understand."
Devon didn't blink. "Alpha Roderick is dead."
The world shook beneath me.
"What?" I exhaled sharply, stepping back, my thoughts scrambling to make sense of what he'd just said.
A gasp escaped my lips as the reality of his words crashed down on me. Icy cold spread through my veins.
My lungs clenched, as if I had been submerged in freezing water, unable to breathe.
Devon closed the distance between us again, his grip firm on my shoulders, anchoring me in place.
"Judging by the look on your face, I'm guessing my suspicions were right." His voice was low. "You knew the late Alpha of Ash Creek. More than that, you shared a close relationship with him. His household."
Goddess, give me strength.
"Devon—" I tried, but my voice caught in my throat.
My mind was blank. Completely empty. All I could think was—
He knows. How? How long?
And if he knew—if he truly knew—then there was a fat chance he had pieced together the biggest secret of all.
Asha.
I felt hot shame crash over me, drowning me in waves of guilt.
Five years. Five years of lying. Of hiding.
"We need to have a serious conversation, Maeve." Devon's grip tightened ever so slightly. "And we're going to be honest about everything." His voice was gentle, but there was no room for negotiation in his tone. "Is that okay with you?"
My lips parted, but no words came out.
How could I promise honesty to a man I had lied to for years? How could I look him in the eyes and admit— I had been running from my past.
Running from him.
Devon's voice sharpened, cutting through my thoughts.
"Maeve."
I swallowed and nodded wordlessly. It was all he needed to continue. His hands slid from my shoulders, down to lace his fingers with mine.
The warmth of his touch felt too kind. Too forgiving.
"I'm not mad at you," he said, his tone softer than I deserved.
I blinked at him, trying to process why he wasn't furious.
"I remember the night I met you." His eyes searched mine. "If the state you were in was anything to go by, I can understand why you'd want to hide the fact that you were married to an asshole like Ivan Cross."
My breath caught. "Devon— I can explain."
"You don't have to." He gave my hands a squeeze. "I've known for five years."
Five. Years.
I reeled. "But… how?"
Devon exhaled through his nose, his lips quirking into a wry smile.
"Shortly after you came home with me, I received word from my sources in Ash Creek." His fingers traced lazy patterns along my knuckles, his voice calm, casual—like he wasn't completely blowing my mind. "The heir's destined mate had run away. Abandoned her position. Turned her back on their union."
He tilted his head slightly. "And seeing as how I happened to find you miles away from Ash Creek, it wasn't exactly difficult to put two and two together."
I sucked in a sharp breath. "So… you've known this whole time?"
"Yes."
How could he still love me?
How could he bear treating me with kindness, raising Asha as his own, when he knew I had been lying to him the entire time we'd been together?
How could he stand the sight of me?
My heart pounded as suppressed memories forced their way to the surface. Memories of misery. Abuse. Pain.
Memories I had spent five years burying—only for them to rise, raw and suffocating, as if no time had passed at all.
"Maeve? Love?" Devon released my hands and cupped my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. The kindness in his eyes gutted me.
My vision blurred as tears gathered in the corners of my eyes.
How could he look at me like that, knowing the web of lies between us? How could he still love me?
"I never said anything because I was waiting," Devon murmured, his voice gentle. "Waiting for you to tell me in your own time."
A sharp breath left my lips. "You must be pretty disappointed that you beat me to it."
I sniffed, hating how small I sounded.
Devon brushed away my tears with his thumbs, smiling at me softly—before his expression turned serious.
"I need you to listen very carefully, Maeve," he said, his tone dropping an octave lower. "What I'm about to tell you is important."
I straightened slightly. "I'm listening."
"You asked me earlier how I know Ivan," he continued. His jaw tightened as he spoke the name. "I know him because he's my cousin."
The air left my lungs.
"What?"
He nodded.
"Yes. Ivan and I are cousins. Our fathers were brothers. I grew up in Ash Creek. For the first half of my life, I lived alongside him." His fingers twitched against my skin, his voice turning colder. "But everything changed when my parents were murdered by the Alpha King."
A sharp gasp tore from my lips. "Goddess!"
I pressed a shaking hand to my throat, my pulse thundering.
The anger in Devon's eyes burned hot.
"I was sixteen when they forced me out of Ash Creek," he continued, his voice deceptively even. "I was kicked out. Stripped of my name. Forced to live as a rogue. Condemned to a life of exile."
My heart clenched at the emptiness in his tone.
"Devon…" I whispered, my voice thick with guilt and sorrow.
I reached for him, my fingers grazing his chest as if my touch could lessen the weight of his past.
"I am so sorry," I breathed. "I can't even imagine what you went through."
Devon's expression didn't change, but his hands tightened around mine. Pain flickered in his eyes, but it was drowned beneath a much stronger emotion—rage.
Without meaning to, my mind drifted back to Ash Creek. To Ivan.
If his father was truly dead, then the council was already making preparations to crown him Alpha King.
I could picture him standing at the helm of power, smug as hell. Married to Serena. With bratty heirs running around the pack house.
My nostrils flared, rage swelling deep and primal. What right did Ivan Cross have to be happy?
To live his life without consequence—while I had to claw my way out of the hell he had thrown me into? People like him didn't deserve a peaceful night's sleep.
And yet as much as I wanted to hold onto my anger—I couldn't. Not fully.
Because despite everything Ivan took from me, despite the years of suffering—my life had turned out better than I ever imagined.
I had a son. I had a mate who loved me.
It still hurt to think of Ivan and Serena together, but it wasn't crippling. It wasn't a wound that bled fresh every time I touched it.
And maybe—just maybe—that was the biggest victory of all.
Devon ran his thumb over my cheek, his eyes studying me with intensity. Then he asked a question I never could have expected.
"How do you feel about becoming the next Luna of Ash Creek, Maeve?"
I stiffened.
"What?" I scoffed, leaning back to search his face.
He wasn't smiling. He wasn't joking.
There was a fire in his eyes, an edge to his voice that made my stomach tighten.
"You want to be King of Ash Creek?" My voice came out slow, deliberate. "How? Why? What are you planning, Devon?"
His grip on my waist tightened, his fingers curling against my skin.
"Ivan took everything from me." His voice was deadly quiet. "And I intend to take everything from him."
A shiver ran down my spine.
"I have plans, Maeve. Plans that will make Ivan Cross and his family pay for everything they've done." His eyes flashed dangerous, his wolf rising to the surface. "At the same time, I intend to pull a hostile takeover of Ash Creek."
My heart slammed against my ribs. A coup.
Devon wanted to take the throne. To become King.
He reached for my chin, tilting my face until our eyes locked.
"But to do this, Maeve—I need your help."