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Sloane Grayson’s POV 

“Then say hello to the devil, little wolf” 

He purred as though his words were a sentence, an execution. 

I just stood there, my breath hitched, heart pounding vigorously in my chest, as though they would give out. My lips parted slightly, a hint of something stupid flashing in my eyes; hope. 

His hot, intoxicating breath lingered on my skin, his golden orbs glistening like fire under the moonlight. 

And then, almost immediately, the smirk on his lips disappeared, gone as though they were never there, replaced by a cold, hard stare. 

“Little wolf, you mistake my silence for interest” he growled. 

My heart sank. 

The night air bit into my skin, but it couldn't be compared to the sudden chill from his voice. 

“Wa…wait..pls…” I muttered, my voice shaking. “I…I meant it, pls. I…I want….” 

He took a step back, his hands behind him. “You want me to play pretend” he said, his voice low but dangerous. “To pretend to care and wash your leash like a mutt. Right?” 

My lips shivered. “No…no…” 

He cut me off before I could say another thing. “Sorry darling, I'm not the man to do pity contracts” 

I pressed my lips together, clutching my aching chest. It felt like a punch in the gut. I blinked back the stinging tears threatening to fall down my cheeks. “Then…then what do you do?” I asked, choking on a sob, hating myself for sounding desperate. 

He slightly tilted his head, his eyes squinting. “I ruin things. But you, Ms. Sloane Grayson, you're already ruined. So, what's the fun in that?” 

His words felt like a slap in the face, ruthless but true. 

“You crave for affection from a demon” he snarled. “That's fucking cute” 

Then, he spun his heels and strode away, just like that. 

His beast walked behind me, growling softly, obedient but then again, deadly. 

I just stood there, watching his retreating figure, my body shaking. 

It was laughable, I was by the devil himself. I wasn't even worthy of his ruin. 

A tear fell down my cheeks as I tilted my head down, staring at the marble floors where he had stood. 

Not even the devil wants me. 

*******

The next night, I smeared blood red lipstick and obsidian dark eyeliner which was thick enough to hide the paleness of my face. 

My dress flickered with fake stones, my hair packed in a messy bun. 

There was a party at a neighbouring pack tonight and all young Alpha heirs would attend. It was to take place at a famous club and everyone would be there; males desperate to claim, girls desperate to mate, reckless, hormone driven young adults. 

But I? 

I was dying, but I didn't mind looking good while doing it. 

“Well…if I'm to die” I muttered to myself as I stared at my reflection. “I might as well die drunk tonight” 

*******

After getting dressed, I made my way to my car and drove off to the party. 

Thirty minutes later, I arrived. 

The party was in full swing, the music boomed so loudly, it looked like it could rupture an ear drum, the bass thudding through my ribs. Bright, mixed coloured party balls were hung on the ceiling, giving the atmosphere that party vibe. 

I danced alone, trying to ease myself of my pain. 

Hands running through my hair, roughing up my messy bun, my skin pricking with sweat, my pulse thudding in my ears. 

I downed shot after shot of all kinds of alcohol; Vodka, Tequila, in fact, whatever the bartender carried in his platter, I drank it all. But deep inside of me, I still felt empty. 

I laughed loudly, excused myself to the bathroom, then cried for minutes before going back to the dance floor, still chunking down large amounts of alcohol. 

But it still didn't help, I wanted to feel something, anything at the moment. But all I could feel was numbness. 

The booze began to kick in, faces doubling in my vision, a hundred scents I couldn't recognise assaulting my nostrils. 

I staggered outside, stumbling on a stone in the process, the cold night's air brushing against my skin, icy and sharp. As I walked down the alley to find my car, my heels clicked on the marble floor in a disoriented movement. 

I just wanted to go home at this moment and maybe throw up, cry myself to sleep and wait for death to take me. 

But suddenly, I heard it. 

Footsteps belonging to more than four men. 

They circled me like predators, sneering and hissing. 

“Tsk…pretty little runt” I heard one sneer. “Are you all alone at the dead of night?” 

I tried to keep walking. “Back off” 

They cackled, their laughter mocking.

“You reek of heat and desperation” another said, stepping closer to me. 

“Hey! Stay away from me!” I yelled, my voice cracking. 

But the men didn't listen. One moved forward, grabbing my wrists tightly. I yelled at the top of my lungs, trying to yank his hand. “Let go of me, now!!” 

They didn't let me go; they dragged me back toward the wall, toward the darkness. One of them shoved me against the bricks, cold hands, breath stinking of booze and rot. 

I fought and kicked, my vision swimming. And then, a roar, not human, not wolf, something worse, something ancient.

One of the men screamed, then flew through the air, crashing against a parked car with a loud crack. Another howled in pain, with claws tearing down his back, and blood spraying across the bricks. 

The third ran. I collapsed to my knees, blinking, gasping. He stood there, not Zaurik.

But one of the men who always stood beside him, the silent one, with black eyes, pale skin, and a stone-like expression. 

He looked down at me like I was something he didn't know how to deal with, then said flatly: “He said you might do something stupid.” I tried to speak, but I couldn't. 

He didn't wait; he bent down, gripped my arm, and pulled me to my feet like I weighed nothing. I stumbled beside him, too drunk to understand where we were going, too shocked to resist. He didn't take me home; he took me to hell.

******

It looked like an abandoned building from the outside, a cracked warehouse, burnt signs, and rusted hinges. But inside, it was different: obsidian floors, velvet-lined walls, and candles in golden holders. 

It smelled like smoke, leather, and something more dangerous. The beast sat in the corner, its eyes glowing red, its tail twitching lazily. And across the room, on a black leather chair, legs spread, shirt half-unbuttoned….Zaurik.

He didn't move, just leaned in on his chair, his finger pressing his temple, his gaze lingering on me. 

“Tsk….you look drowned, little wolf” he purred. 

I frowned, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. 

“Wh….why did…” I tried to speak up, my voice cracking. “Why did you send him?” 

He didn't reply to me immediately, just let my question linger before he finally decided to speak up. 

“After midnight, I own this city,” he replied. “And I don't like when things that belongs to me gets tampered with” 

I rIed a brow. “Belongs to you?” I repeated. 

He leaned forward. “Don't flatter yourself, little wolf,” he snarled. “i don't rescue rather….I reclaim what belongs to me” 

My breath hitched. 

“Do you think I saved you, huh?” He scoffed. “Darling…..I sent a hound. I didn't bother showing up” 

I tried to take a step forward but suddenly, my legs trembled, giving out as I collapsed, landing at his feet. 

He looked down at me like a king looking at a peasant. “Still want that pretend relationship, dying girl?” 

I nodded, breathless and raw. “Yes.” 

His eyes flickered, and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “If you want to be mine,” he said, his voice smooth, “you’ll have to earn it.”

My heart thudded. “Love is off the table,” he said, “and so is mercy.” 

I nodded again. 

He smiled slowly. “I don't do girlfriends,” he said, “I do games.” He tilted his head. “You want to play?” 

I didn't blink. “Yes.” 

His grin widened. “Then pass my test,” he whispered, “and pray you survive it.”