Chapter 2
Lyia
“Lyia.” Devon’s voice was soft, almost tender, a tone that felt out of place coming from someone like him. It was light, almost a sigh, laced with something that sounded like affection. He was calling my name—Lyia.
“What is value?” He stepped away from his usual careless posture, standing tall and leaning slightly toward me, his silver-gray eyes meeting mine at eye level. Those beautiful eyes, usually so sharp and commanding, were filled with a gentleness that caught me off guard.
Is this really Devon?
“Don’t let other people’s opinions define your worth,” he said, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his gaze—compassion, maybe, or understanding. “You’ve always been a good person, Lyia. You—”
“Hey, Devon! Why are you wasting your time talking to trash like her?”
Avery’s voice sliced through the air like a blade, cutting into the raw, aching wound of my pride.
I should have been used to it by now, her venomous words and the way they always found new ways to hurt.
But each jab felt fresh, like a bruise pressed too hard.
I braced myself, my shoulders hunching instinctively, as if I could shield myself from the inevitable.
Devon’s expression hardened instantly, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a cold, unyielding edge. The shift was so abrupt it made me question whether I’d imagined that fleeting moment of kindness. Stupid Devon, throwing around affection like it means nothing.
He turned to Avery, his gaze glinting with a dangerous intensity. “Be quiet, Avery. Not everyone is as shallow and ignorant as you.”
Avery’s mouth fell open, her perfectly glossed lips forming a shocked ‘O.’ She clearly hadn’t expected Devon to defend me. “You’re standing up for her? Have you lost your mind? You know her father’s a criminal, right? She’s that kind of person’s daughter!”
Her words hit like a punch to the chest, stealing my breath.
My father’s conviction—the fraud he was accused of—was the deepest scar I carried.
It had cost him his freedom and me my only family.
My body curled inward, a reflex I’d developed over years of dodging insults and objects thrown my way.
Inside, my wolf growled, restless and angry, but I pushed her down.
I always did. I owed her too much, and gave her too little.
“If respecting someone makes me crazy, then I’ll gladly stay that way forever,” Devon said, his voice sharp and cold, like a winter storm. “And if I hear you insult Lyia again, I’ll make sure every partnership between Sterling Group and the Norton family comes to an immediate end.”
I stared at him, my eyes wide with disbelief. Devon, the master of charm and manipulation, was playing this role to perfection. As if sensing my shock, he pivoted back to me, flashing a teasing, almost sweet wink that contrasted sharply with the weight of his threat.
The air crackled with the force of his words, and Avery’s face drained of color. She glared at me, her blue eyes burning with hatred, but for once, she was speechless.
“Enjoy your moment, Lyia,” she spat, spinning on her heel and stalking away. The girl who had tormented me for two years, the untouchable heiress, left without another word, without another act of cruelty. It was almost too easy.
I stood frozen, my spine slowly relaxing as the tension ebbed from my body. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms until they stung. The irony wasn’t lost on me—after a decade of silence and shame, the first person to stand up for me was Devon Sterling.
“Why?” My voice was barely a whisper, thick with suspicion and confusion.
Devon looked at me, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “Why not?”
“So, can I drive you home today?” Devon asked, leaning back against his car with a lazy, almost liquid ease. It was as if all the warmth and intensity I’d glimpsed in him before had melted away, leaving only his usual carefree nonchalance.
“Listen, Mr. Sterling—”
“Devon,” he corrected firmly, his tone serious despite the playful glint in his eyes. “My name’s Devon. Calling me ‘Mr. Sterling’ makes me feel like my dad’s looming over my shoulder.”
The unexpected humor caught me off guard, and my lips twitched upward before I could stop them. Damn it, he made me smile. I quickly ducked my head, pretending to adjust the straps of my backpack to hide the traitorous grin.
“…Devon,” I said reluctantly, his name feeling strange and intimate on my tongue, like tasting a forbidden dessert. “I appreciate what you did, but that doesn’t make us friends. Now, please move. I have to get to work.”
His eyes sparkled in the sunlight, like molten silver flecked with starlight. “Which shop? I can drop you off.”
“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “Thank you, but no. I’d rather squeeze onto the most crowded bus in the city than ride in your car that’s worth ten years of my salary.”
Devon raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into that familiar, mischievous smirk. “That’s because you haven’t tried my heated seats. On a cold night, they’re a lifesaver for your… well, you know.”
I choked on my own breath, staring at him in disbelief. Devon Sterling, heir to Sterling Group, future Alpha of the Silver Moon pack, was talking about heated seats? And… my backside?
“Are you serious?” I asked, incredulous.
“Dead serious,” he said, nodding solemnly. “Two things you don’t skimp on in life: good coffee and a top-notch seat heater.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed, the sound bursting out before I could stop it. Realizing my mistake, I cleared my throat and forced my face back into a neutral expression, but it was too late. Devon’s eyes lit up with triumph.
“There it is,” he said softly, his voice low and warm, like a caress. “I’ve been waiting a week to see that smile.”
My heart skipped, a flock of butterflies taking flight in my chest. No, Lyia, this is too dangerous. My wolf whined, practically begging to leap toward him, her soft growls scolding me for resisting. I sidestepped him, forcing my legs to move forward.
“Next time, Devon,” I said over my shoulder, my voice softer than I intended. “I’ll think about those heated seats next time.”
I could feel his gaze trailing after me, a pull as strong as gravity, but I didn’t look back. If I turned, even for a second, I might make a choice I’d regret forever.
“Lyia! Table three needs you!”
I tied my apron quickly, slipping on my gloves and diving into work mode. I loved my job at the campus coffee shop. Martha, the owner, was a kind older woman with a round face and a warm smile that made the place feel like a haven amidst my chaotic life.
I grabbed my notepad and headed to table three to take an order. Today, I could pick up an extra shift, which meant a few more hours of pay—money that would go toward my father’s bail fund. It was shaping up to be a good day.
“Good afternoon, sir. Can I take your—oh.” Not a good day after all.
There he was, in a deep blue suit, his shirt collar open as always, his silver hair slightly tousled, like he’d just stepped out of a high-stakes meeting.
“Lyia,” Devon said, a grin spreading across his face. “Not taking my order?”
“Mr. Sterling,” I said, keeping my tone professional, as if we were just a customer and a server.
His eyes gleamed with mischief. “I’ll have a black coffee, no sugar, no cream. And,” he added with a sly wink, “a slice of your signature blueberry cheesecake.”
I frowned slightly. Our signature was chocolate lava cake, not blueberry cheesecake.
Noticing my confusion, Devon leaned back, his grin widening. “My mistake. Make it strawberry cheesecake then.”
We didn’t have that either.
“Sir, our signature is chocolate lava cake,” I explained patiently. “If you want cheesecake, we have plain or raspberry.”
“Then I’ll take a cheesecake lava cake,” he said without missing a beat, his eyes twinkling with playful defiance. “And don’t call me ‘sir,’ Lyia. I’ve told you that already.”
I took a deep breath, slapped my notepad onto his table, and leaned in. “Plain cheesecake it is. Eat it or leave it, but don’t make me punch that annoyingly charming face of yours.” I spun away, then paused and turned back. “Devon.”
He burst out laughing, the sound rich and warm, like a wolf who’d just pulled off a clever trick. Which, I supposed, he had.
All afternoon, Devon sat in his usual corner, his fingers flying over his laptop.
Every time I passed his table, I felt his gaze on me, warm and intense, making my heart race.
More than once, I nearly tripped over my own feet, distracted by the weight of his attention.
One time, as I carried a tray of drinks past his table, he looked up, caught my eye, and winked.
My tray wobbled dangerously, nearly spilling.
“Careful,” he said softly, his voice just for me. “You seem a little distracted.”
“Whose fault is that?” I shot back, narrowing my eyes as I steadied the tray.
He propped his chin on his hand, grinning. “I get it. You’re the best view in this room.”
My face flushed, and I hurried away before I could embarrass myself further. When I emerged from the kitchen later, he was gone. I let out a breath—relief, maybe, or disappointment.
Under his coffee cup, I found a twenty-dollar bill and a folded note. I pocketed the tip, washed my hands, and carefully unfolded the paper.
The coffee here’s terrible. Have dinner with me instead? —D
What a jerk.
For the next week, Devon showed up at the coffee shop every day, always claiming the same corner table with his laptop. He started ordering plain black coffee from my coworkers, sparing me his teasing, but he never failed to leave a twenty and a note. Each one was different.
I saw a hair clip that would look perfect on you. If you’re up for it. —D
You looked at me twelve times today, two more than yesterday. I’m keeping count. —D
The sunlight today makes your blonde hair glow. God must’ve sprinkled all the stars into your hair. —D