Page 12 of Devlin

Her instincts urged her to look away, but her body refused. It wasn’t that he’d changed so very much in the past decade, but he just seemed so much more… more everything. He seemed to fill the room, every inch of his tall, broad frame a tangible reminder of the boy he’d been and the man he’d become. His dark beard was full, his black hair trimmed shorter than he used towear. But his deep, piercing blue eyes held her captive. Beneath perfectly arched brows, his eyes searched hers, their intensity undiminished by time.

The warehouse buzzed with activity, the clatter of crates and murmur of voices a distant hum as if she were underwater. Slowly, Margarethe’s voice penetrated the fog, drawing Mia back to reality. She blinked, her chest tight, realizing that Jim wasn’t a mirage. He was here and real.

Margarethe had called him Devlin. Not Jim. Why the formality? Then again, she knew nothing of his life now, not even what he called himself. For all she knew, he could be an entirely different person. Right now, she didn’t want to think of Jim, the once love of her life. No… Devlin is fine.Except I always thought that would be my last name.She winced and tried to still her heart pounding in her chest.

Her gaze traced his face, lingering on the features she’d once memorized. Her shock and disbelief was mirrored in his expression. He took a step closer, and a vivid memory flooded her mind—him standing between her and a police officer after she’d chained her fifteen-year-old self to the goalpost in protest. The clarity of it stole her breath. They say your life flashes before your eyes in moments of crisis, but she’d never believed it until now. She wasn’t dying, yet scene after scene from their shared history played out in her mind.

Then, like a slap, came the memory of their last encounter—his face etched with indifference, offering nothing but heartbreak. Her body jerked involuntarily as if recoiling from the thought. She tore her gaze away from him and turned to Margarethe, her focus sharpening as another man stepped closer.

“Are you okay, Mia?” Robert’s voice was soft but insistent, his hand resting on her arm.

A low, guttural sound came from Devlin—a growl, almost imperceptible but unmistakably there.

“I’m fine,” she managed, her voice steady despite the chaos within her.

Devlin’s eyes locked on Robert, his jaw tightening. “And you are?” His tone was clipped, edged with something primal.

“I’m Robert Ellyson.” Robert extended a hand, oblivious to the tension coiling around them.

Margarethe stepped into the fray, her voice brisk and professional. “Yes, Robert is our logistics and supply chain officer. He works closely with Mia on food distribution.”

Another low growl rumbled in Devlin’s chest as Margarethe introduced the others, her tone unbothered. Mia’s mind raced, trying to understand his presence and connection to Margarethe.Why was he here?

Margarethe’s voice broke through again. “Mia, are you sure you’re all right?”

The question jolted her back to the moment. She shook her head quickly and forced a smile. Or at least, she hoped it was a smile—it felt more like a grimace. “Yes, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone with you.”

Devlin’s eyes never left her, the weight of his gaze pressing against her skin like a brand. Her pulse thrummed as the past collided with the present, leaving her unsure of how to breathe, let alone what to say. In the heat and chaos of the refugee camp, one thing became clear—she couldn’t escape her past anymore.

“Since I’ll be working with inventory today and tomorrow, I have these men with me as security. We are unloading the truck now, and I don’t want to interrupt what you and Farid were doing,” Margarethe said, her voice carrying easily over the bustling noise of the warehouse.

Mia was glad for the excuse to turn away, her mind still racing as she numbly followed Farid to the back of the truck. Theair was thick with dust and heat, the sharp scent of diesel fuel hanging heavy. Farid leaned closer, his voice low and concerned as he repeated Margarethe’s earlier question.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, yes,” she bit out, waving off his concern. It was on the tip of her tongue to explain that she’d known one of the men, but her past felt too personal to share, especially in the middle of a delivery. “I skipped lunch. That’s probably why I feel a little strange. As soon as we finish this, I’ll talk to Margarethe and have some tea.”

Together, they monitored the unloading process. Mia was grateful for Farid, who shouldered most of the responsibilities for checking the food supplies from the WFP. But even as she worked, she couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched. The prickling awareness on the back of her neck was impossible to ignore.

Her head turned with a will of its own, and her gaze sought him out. There he was, standing across from the warehouse, his hands on his hips. His body was angled toward the other men, but his head was twisted in her direction, his unwavering eyes locked onto her.

Her chest heaved with suppressed emotion. She wanted to scream, to throw her clipboard at him, to cry until the ache in her chest subsided.How the hell can he still affect me like this after so long?Her chest heaved, and she could tell he noticed even from the distance. That was one thing about Jim Devlin—he observed everything. He always had. When they were together, she’d reveled in how deeply he knew her.Until he didn’t.

Hardening her heart, she willed her racing pulse to slow and lifted her chin defiantly.He broke me once.Turning back to the task at hand, she forced herself to focus, though her hands trembled slightly as she checked off items on the clipboard.

“You’ve already checked off those boxes,” Farid said gently, glancing at her clipboard.

Mia blinked, realizing he was right. She’d been so distracted she hadn’t even noticed. Looking up, she saw nothing but understanding in Farid’s eyes. Though she’d never shared her personal life with him, he clearly sensed the tension emanating from her.

“We’re almost done,” she said, her voice strained. “Would you mind finishing up?”

“Of course not,” he replied with quiet assurance.

Mia turned to leave, unsure where to go, when Farid placed a hand on her arm. She looked back at him, waiting.

“You were surprised by the visitors. Especially the one named Devil.”

Her brow lifted, remembering his call sign. “Devil?”

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