The palace had many secrets.
Some whispered.
Some hidden.
And some… happening right in plain sight.
—
Scott wasn't supposed to be there.
Not in that corridor. Not at that hour.
But Scott had never been one to follow rules.
The hallway was quiet, dimly lit by soft golden lamps fixed along the walls. Most servants had already retreated to their quarters, and the nobles were either dining or locked away in their private rooms.
Which made it perfect.
The male maid standing in front of him looked like he wanted to disappear.
"Relax," Scott said, leaning casually against the wall, arms folded. "You look like you're about to faint."
"I—I could get in trouble, my lord," the maid whispered, glancing nervously down the corridor.
Scott tilted his head slightly, studying him.
He was young. Maybe a year or two older than Scott. Slim, neat, with careful hands that probably spent most of their time cleaning things that didn't need cleaning.
"Then don't get caught," Scott replied simply.
The maid let out a shaky breath. "It's not that easy."
Scott stepped closer.
Close enough to make the other man freeze.
"When has anything in this palace ever been easy?" he murmured.
The maid swallowed.
Scott noticed everything—the way his fingers twitched, the way his breathing hitched slightly.
Fear.
And something else.
Scott reached out, brushing his fingers lightly against the maid's wrist.
"Stop shaking," he said softly.
"I'm not—"
"You are."
The maid went quiet.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The world outside that corridor didn't exist.
It was just them.
Scott's lips curved faintly. "You're terrible at lying."
"And you're terrible at staying out of trouble."
The voice cut through the moment like a blade.
Scott didn't flinch.
He didn't even turn immediately.
But the maid did.
And the color drained from his face.
"My lord—"
"Relax," Scott said calmly, finally looking over his shoulder.
Jeremy stood a few steps away, leaning against the wall like he had been there for a while.
Watching.
Of course he had.
Next to him stood Trinidad.
And unlike Jeremy, she wasn't hiding her interest.
She was enjoying this.
Jeremy pushed himself off the wall slowly, his lips curling into a smirk.
"Well," he said, clapping once lightly. "This is… interesting."
Scott sighed. "You're ruining the moment."
"Was I?" Jeremy asked, amused. "Looked like I walked in right on time."
The maid immediately stepped back, lowering his head.
"I apologize, my lords… my lady… I should return to my duties."
Scott glanced at him briefly, then nodded once.
"Go."
The maid didn't hesitate.
He left quickly.
Too quickly.
Jeremy watched him go, then looked back at Scott.
"You're getting careless."
Scott shrugged. "Or you're getting nosy."
Jeremy grinned. "I've always been nosy."
Trinidad stepped forward slightly, her presence commanding attention without effort.
She wore a deep emerald gown that hugged her figure perfectly, the fabric flowing smoothly down to the floor. Gold embroidery lined the edges, subtle but expensive.
Her hair was styled neatly, cascading over one shoulder, and her jewelry was minimal—but every piece screamed royalty.
She didn't need excess.
She was the statement.
"Leave him alone," she said lightly. "At least Scott is honest about what he wants."
Jeremy snorted. "Honest? He's sneaking around with servants."
Scott raised a brow. "And you're better?"
Jeremy's smile didn't fade.
"I don't sneak."
"That's not something to be proud of."
Trinidad laughed softly.
Then her expression shifted slightly.
"Speaking of interesting things…" she said, glancing between them. "I heard Devon brought someone in."
Scott's attention sharpened.
Jeremy's smile dropped just a little.
"Yeah," Jeremy muttered. "I saw."
"Did you?" Trinidad asked, curious. "And?"
Jeremy's jaw tightened slightly.
"She's trouble."
Scott leaned back against the wall again. "Already?"
Jeremy shot him a look. "She attacked his guards."
Scott blinked once.
Then—
A slow smile spread across his face.
"I like her."
Trinidad's lips curved in agreement. "So do I."
Jeremy looked between them, clearly unimpressed.
"You both are unbelievable."
"What?" Scott asked casually. "You prefer the quiet, obedient type?"
"Yes," Jeremy snapped. "Because they know their place."
Trinidad tilted her head. "That's boring."
Jeremy scoffed. "No, it's practical."
Scott shook his head. "No, it's predictable."
Trinidad crossed her arms. "And Devon hates predictable."
That made Jeremy pause.
Just for a second.
Then his expression darkened slightly.
"She's still nothing," he said. "Just another girl he'll break."
Scott's smile faded.
"Maybe," he said quietly. "Or maybe she'll break him."
Jeremy laughed.
But there was no humor in it.
"That's not happening."
Trinidad watched him carefully.
"You sound bothered."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Jeremy pushed away from the wall abruptly.
"I just don't like disrespect," he said sharply.
Scott raised a brow. "From her? Or toward Devon?"
Jeremy didn't answer.
Which was answer enough.
Trinidad's eyes gleamed slightly.
"Oh," she murmured. "This is about pride."
Jeremy turned to leave.
"And if it is?"
Scott's voice followed him.
"Then you're going to do something stupid."
Jeremy stopped.
Slowly—
He looked back.
His smile returned.
But this time…
It was colder.
"Watch me."
And then he walked away.
—
Jeremy's room was exactly what you would expect.
Sharp.
Clean.
Controlled.
Everything had its place. Dark wood furniture lined the space, polished to perfection. The walls were decorated with weapons—swords, daggers, things that weren't just for display.
The curtains were heavy, deep crimson, blocking out most of the light.
It felt less like a bedroom…
And more like a war room.
Jeremy walked in, closing the door behind him slowly.
His expression didn't change.
But his mind was already moving.
Fast.
"She thinks she's bold," he muttered.
His fingers brushed over the handle of a dagger resting on the table.
"She thinks she can walk into this palace and act like she owns it."
His grip tightened.
A slow smile formed on his lips.
"Let's see how long that lasts."
—
Elsewhere in the palace…
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Devon's room was nothing like Jeremy's.
It was… beautiful.
Not in a soft way.
In a powerful way.
The walls were carved with intricate designs, ancient patterns that told stories of Alphas before him. The room was large, open, with tall windows that let in moonlight.
Everything was expensive.
Everything was deliberate.
And yet—
Right now, none of it mattered.
Devon stood in the center of the room, breathing heavily.
His body was tense.
Too tense.
Something beneath his skin was shifting.
Fighting.
His eyes—
They weren't normal.
There was something darker in them. Something animal.
Raw.
Uncontrolled.
His hands clenched into fists as a low growl escaped his throat.
"Not now…" he muttered.
But it was already happening.
The shift.
Not fully.
But enough.
His senses sharpened painfully. Every sound, every scent—it all crashed into him at once.
And then—
Hunger.
Sharp.
Sudden.
Violent.
Devon's head snapped up.
"Guard," he called, his voice rough.
The door opened instantly.
"My lord."
"Bring her."
The guard hesitated. "The girl?"
Devon's gaze darkened.
"Now."
The guard didn't ask again.
—
Tania didn't rush.
Even when she was told to.
She walked into the room like she belonged there.
Like she wasn't summoned.
Her outfit hadn't changed much—simple, fitted clothes, but she wore them like armor. Her chin was up, her eyes sharp.
Sassy.
Unbothered.
Dangerous.
"Let me guess," she said as she stepped inside. "You missed me—"
She didn't finish.
Because Devon moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
One second he was across the room.
The next—
He was right in front of her.
Tania barely had time to react before he grabbed her.
Hard.
"What the—"
Then pain.
Sharp.
Burning.
Her breath hitched violently as Devon's grip tightened, his face buried against her neck.
Her body went rigid.
"What are you—"
Her words broke into a gasp.
It hurt.
Not just physically—
Something deeper.
Something wrong.
Her fingers clawed at his arm, trying to push him away.
"Stop—"
Her voice came out strained.
Weak.
Her strength was fading too fast.
Her legs trembled.
Her breathing turned uneven.
"Devon—"
She didn't even know why she said his name.
Maybe because nothing else was working.
Her vision blurred.
The room spun.
Her hands lost their grip.
Her body felt… light.
Too light.
Her knees buckled slightly.
And then—
Darkness.