LOGINDEVON’S POV“I’ll take the Gamma position.”The words left my mouth so calmly that for a second even I could almost pretend they didn’t matter. Zane stared at me across the desk.His hand, halfway to a stack of reports, froze in the air.For three full seconds, he said absolutely nothing.Then he leaned back slowly in his chair and narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re joking.”“I’m not.”He barked out a dry laugh. “Devon, I know you enjoy chaos more than most men enjoy breathing, but this isn’t funny.”I stayed where I was, hands in my pockets, shoulders loose, expression blank. Morning light spilled in through the tall office windows and caught the polished edge of his desk. Outside, I could hear distant movement in the training yard, boots on dirt, wolves barking orders, the sharp clang of metal. Normal sounds. Steady sounds.Inside the office, the air had gone strange.“I said I’ll take it,” I repeated. “If the council insists on restructuring ranks with me back in the territory, then
The memorial service ended in absolute chaos. Devon was back. He wasn't a ghost. He wasn't an illusion. He had stood on that stage, spoken to the pack, and completely shattered the reality we had lived in for the past two years.The shock had barely settled before Gideon summoned me. He didn't ask me to join him. He ordered me. And my father backed him up.That was exactly how I ended up sitting at a rectangular table just two hours later. A private dinner. Just the three of us. Gideon. My father. And me.I stared down at the plate in front of me. I pushed my fork around. I had absolutely no appetite. My stomach was tied in knots.Gideon sat directly across from me. He calmly cut his steak. My father sat at the head of the table. He drank his water. Nobody spoke about the man who had just walked out of the grave. Nobody mentioned Devon’s name. They acted like the entire afternoon hadn't happened. They acted like the world hadn't just shifted on its axis."We need to advance the timeli
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE DEVON’S POV Her hand felt small in mine, but the grip she had on my fingers was anything but weak. It was a lifeline. I pushed open the heavy double doors leading back out to the memorial service. The harsh light of the hall hit my face, a harsh reminder that I was actually here. Not in a loop. Not in a frozen void. Here. In the real world, walking into my own fucking funeral. The silence that rolled over the hall was immediate and absolute. It was as if someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the atmosphere. Two hundred pack members, dressed in their solemn blacks and muted greys, stopped dead in their tracks. A woman in the front row dropped her champagne flute. It shattered against the cobblestones. I ignored the crowd. My eyes found Zane first. He was standing near the front podium, a clipboard in his hand, frozen like a statue. The color completely drained from his face. Beside him, Brielle let out a choked gasp, her hands flying to cover her mouth
IRENEREAL WORLD — PRESENT Twenty-four months.Seven hundred and thirty days.That was how long it had been since the world stopped spinning, even though everyone else insisted it kept turning.I sat on the edge of my bed in the North Pack guest quarters, staring at the wall. The silence was deafening. It was supposed to be peaceful. That was the lie I told myself when I walked away from the witch two years ago. She had given me the choice: enter the loop, enter his hell, and fight for him, or walk away and live.I chose to live. I chose sanity. I told myself that the sick hating game with Devon was a cancer I needed to cut out. I told myself I would be happy without the blood, the obsession, the constant war of our existence. I thought the decision I made was the best for me.Keyword: thought.I wasn't happy. I was a hollow shell painted to look like a woman. Every night for two years, I grieved him. Not the monster who killed my brother, not the Alpha who tormented me, but the love
DEVONI didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe.Irene stood in the center of my dining hall, a vibrant, bleeding wound of a woman against the cold mahogany and stone. The red dress was a statement—a scream of defiance against the white lace Voltage undoubtedly had waiting for her. Her amber eyes were rimmed with red, her chest heaving, her scent a chaotic storm of vanilla and pure, unadulterated adrenaline.I let the silence stretch. I let the clock on the wall tick once, twice, three times. I was the Alpha. I was the man who had lived through many deaths . I wasn't going to let her see the way my heart was currently trying to punch its way out of my ribs.I set the bourbon bottle down with a slow, deliberate click.“You’re late for breakfast,” I said, my voice as smooth as the silk of her dress.Irene didn’t flinch. She marched forward, her heels clicking like a countdown on the marble floor. She stopped right in front of me, so close I could feel the heat radiating off her skin. Her hat
DEVONTwenty-three days.I cut into the steak on my plate, the silver knife slicing through the rare meat with a satisfying slide. Blood pooled on the porcelain, mixing with the peppercorn sauce.Twenty-three days since Voltage dragged her out of my house. Twenty-three days of silence. Twenty-three days of watching the clock on the wall tick down toward my damnation.I chewed slowly, savoring the metallic taste.In less than twenty-four hours, the loop would seal. The window was closing. The witch had been clear about the parameters: make her love me, or get stuck in this hellish repetition for eternity. If the clock struck midnight tonight and Irene didn’t look at me with something other than murderous hatred, I was trapped.I swallowed and took a sip of the bourbon I’d poured for breakfast. It burned going down.I didn’t mind being trapped. I didn’t mind the hell. I just hated losing.The heavy oak doors of the dining hall swung open, banging against the walls. I didn’t look up. I k
Morning came too fast.My eyes snapped open to the dim light leaking through the thin curtains of the Omegas’ quarters. The mattress under me felt too small, the air too cold, and my heartbeat too loud.I was still trembling.Everything I’d seen in that safe—everything Devon had done—echoed like a
Irene's POVI slipped out of the penthouse just before dawn, shoes in my hand so my heels wouldn't click on the marble. Devon was still sprawled across the couch, one arm flung over the spot I'd vacated, chest rising slow and deep. I told myself I wasn't running. I was surviving.Two days later the
Irene's POV The knock came at noon, sharp and official. Brielle opened the door to our Omega hut and froze. Andrea Voss stood on the threshold in a white coat and heels, flanked by two guards. She smiled like winter. "I'm here to inspect living conditions for the lower ranks," she announced loud
The wind cut sharp across the ridge, carrying the stink of pine sap and distant snow. I sat behind Devon on the four-wheeler, arms locked around his waist because the alternative was flying off the back when he gunned it over the rocks. His coat was open; my cheek pressed to the heat of his spine t







