James' POV
I remember the night I first met Isabella as if it had been etched into my memory with fire. It was a grand banquet, hosted by the Redmoon Pack, a gathering of Alphas, heirs, and influential figures, all vying for alliances and dominance in the ever-shifting world of werewolves.
I had attended as the future Alpha of the Golden Ridge Pack, my engagement to Avery already public knowledge. She had been by my side that night, dressed in soft pastels, her gaze filled with quiet admiration.
But then, I saw her.
Isabella. The star of the evening.
She was dressed in a deep crimson gown that clung to her curves, her dark hair cascading down her back like molten rock. Everything about her radiated power; her smirk, her stride, the way her gaze flicked across the room, assessing, calculating. She was untouchable, the kind of woman men whispered about but never dared approach.
Yet, she approached me.