Over the weeks, Damon had done exactly what he had set out to do, and he had done it with the kind of precision that came from a man who never allowed emotions to outrun strategy.
He had built something steady with Daisy, something that looked harmless on the surface and even felt warm at times, but beneath it all he kept a clear, deliberate line drawn in his mind, bold and unshakable, a boundary he refused to cross no matter how tempting or convenient the moment became.
There were times she tested that boundary without even realizing she was doing it. Like the afternoon she had appeared at his door in a fitted dress that hugged her curves a little too well, her back turned to him as she asked in a soft, almost shy tone if he could help zip her up because she could not quite reach.
He had stepped forward, careful not to let his fingers linger longer than necessary, the scent of her perfume brushing against his senses while his wolf stirred with awareness.
He had finished the task quickly, muttered something neutral, and stepped away before the air between them thickened into something unwelcoming.
Another time, she had invited him into her room under the excuse of choosing a dress for an event, holding up different fabrics against her body and asking for his opinion with that wide-eyed look that made her seem innocent.
Damon had stood there with his arms folded, keeping his gaze respectfully above her neckline, offering measured responses like a consultant rather than a man.
He did not like her, not in the way a man liked a woman he wanted to claim, and even if he had felt the faintest pull of attraction, he would never, under any circumstance, pursue a woman who already belonged to another man.
That was a line carved into his principles long before this pack, long before this mess, and certainly long before Daisy.
His principles, combined with the delicate situation he found himself in, made it easier to keep his mind sharp and focused. He was here for a purpose, for Seraphine, so everything else was noise.
Still, he understood that if he wanted Daisy exactly where he needed her, he could not appear distant. So he invested just enough. He trained with her when she struggled with her battle skills, correcting her stance, adjusting her grip, pushing her to sharpen her reflexes while maintaining that calm, encouraging tone that built trust.
He reviewed pack administration matters with her when she looked overwhelmed, guiding her through reports and logistics as if he genuinely cared about her growth.
He helped her wherever she showed weakness, and slowly, steadily, Daisy began to lean on him.
What started as reliance shifted into warmth. What began as gratitude deepened into something more complicated. She warmed up to him not just as a friend, but as a quiet alternative, a possibility tucked away in her heart in case things with Ravyn ever collapsed.
Damon could see it in the way her eyes lingered sometimes, in the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, in the subtle comparison she must have been making in her mind.
It helped that he had been the one taking care of Bryan while the boy recovered. In a time when leadership felt stretched thin and attention divided, Damon had filled the gaps effortlessly, and that kind of presence left an impression.
With most pack members entangled in the busy rhythm of city life, pack activities had grown simpler, quieter, stripped of their former intensity. Damon found that simplicity refreshing in a way he had not expected.
Out here, away from the suffocating concrete and constant noise of the city, he could finally breathe. He could feel his wolf fully, not just as a restless presence beneath his skin but as a living force that took over a ran as and when needed through the woods.
The runs in wolf form were liberating, the wind slicing through his fur, the earth solid and honest beneath his paws, the trees whispering ancient secrets as he sprinted beneath their shadows. It was a freedom he had missed without realizing how much.
That freedom, and the fact that he was here for Seraphine’s sake, were the only reasons he did not feel the urge to rush back to the city. There was purpose here, even if it was wrapped in deception.
"Beta Damon," the accountant said one afternoon, his tone cautious but respectful.
Damon looked up from the documents he had been reviewing. "Yes, Bright?"

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