Devon
Footsteps thudded in the hall as I walked past my mother's painting. Each time there was a lack of motivation to do anything, It became a habit to wipe the golden frame until I could finally breathe. Her smile—strangely—calmed me, It reminded me of who I was. Devon Lucian Blackwoods, the Lycan King, not some f*****g weakling troubled by witches.
With my hands warmly tucked in my tailored pants, I took a turn towards the case room. About six people were seated round the table, including my beta, Orion. His eyes met mine briefly, and he pointed at the chair at the head of the table.
Litting up a joint, I sucked in the addicting smoke and puffed out a breath. The chair squeaked against the wooden floor as I pushed my weight on it, “what’s the matter now, does this have to do with m
