Against Devil

23 - The Trouble

The meeting room was suffocating.

Not because of the air—no, the air was fine. Sterile and cold, like everything else in this damn fortress. It was the way he looked right through me, like I wasn't even there, that made my lungs rebel.

Alex sat at the far end of the long table, arms crossed, eyes sharp and distant. And when they weren't distant... they were on counsellour.

Some Warrior from the Black Mountain ranks—young, polished, appealing in that demure, predictable way men like him were supposed to want. I knew by her attire and clothes that she was a warrior. 

She sat two seats away from him, whispering something to a scout beside her. Alex leaned in once. Said something back. As the three of them would whisper stuff back and forth.

He smiled.

He smiled.

I hadn't seen him smile since the field—since the blood and the fire and the moment I almost died with Ravi's betrayal still echoing in my ears. Since I staggered out of that hellhole and Alex hadn't even come after me.

He let Lizzy handle it. Nate. Rosa. Anyone but him.

And now here he was—smiling.

The taste of copper and ash filled my mouth again, uninvited. My jaw clenched.

The others spoke around me, their voices blending into a low drone of politics and strategy. No one noticed how my hands curled into fists in my lap. No one noticed the way my knee bounced, caged energy trying not to snap.

But my wolf noticed.

She paced just beneath my skin, anxious and sharp-toothed, radiating tension like a second heartbeat.

I glanced at Alex again. Still no look. Still nothing. Just the occasional flick of his gaze toward her cause she had his fucking attention now.

That was enough.

I pushed back from the table. The chair scraped against the floor, loud and jarring, making more than a few heads turn. I didn't look back. Didn't bother offering an excuse or a tight-lipped smile to smooth it over.

Let them whisper.

Let them wonder what it takes to break someone like me.

I couldn't sit still. My wolf paced just beneath my skin, restless and agitated, matching every spike of frustration that pulsed through me.

He acted like nothing had happened. Like I hadn't stormed out of that meeting room after his cold indifference sliced into me like a blade. The way he could flip from warm to frigid... It made my skin crawl.

I needed space. But more than that—I needed answers.

I slipped into the dark hallway just outside the main chamber. The scent of aged wood and distant lavender filled the space, but it did nothing to calm the burn in my chest. I stopped beside a small chest of drawers lining the wall. There was a delicate glass vase sitting atop it, filled with pristine white flowers. I stared at it, my hands twitching with the urge to hurl it at the wall—or better yet, at his face.

Footsteps echoed behind me.

Good.

Let him follow.

Let him explain.

I kept my back to him as his shadow stretched along the hallway wall. I could already feel the storm in my chest rising, the bitterness caught like thorns in my throat.

"Why did you leave?" His voice was low. Cold. Detached.

I laughed. Bitter. Disbelieving.

"Are you serious?" I turned slowly, my expression venomous. "That's your question?"