Chapter 122 Chapter 122

Chapter 122 Chapter 122
The freezing draft that had entered the room with him didn’t dissipate; instead, it hovered right at the edge of the mattress, creating a distinct boundary between the cozy, chip-crumb-covered blankets and the absolute zero radiating from his skin.

Catherine slowly, carefully pulled the comforter up to her nose, her eyes darting between Harper and the white-haired entity like she was watching an unexploded bomb sit on a coffee table. She didn't dare take another bite of her chip, terrified the crunching sound would provoke a soul-sliding incident.

"You left my father standing in the sitting room," Harper said, leaning her head back against the headboard, entirely unfazed by the way he was still turning a lock of her hair around his long finger. "He went up there to give you a formal apology. Kai told me he looked like he was about to throw up from the stress of it."

"The old wolf’s vocal cords produce a remarkably tedious frequency," The One replied smoothly. He let go of her hair, his hand drifting down to hover just above her collarbone, his fingers tracing the invisible lines of the connection that bound them together. "He speaks of 'misjudging' and 'bloodlines' as if his understanding of the universe has any bearing on my existence. I did not return to this realm to receive the validation of a creature whose ancestors used to howl at the moon from the mud."

"He's the Alpha," Harper reminded him, though she could feel her pulse racing where his hand hovered. "In this valley, his word is law."

"His law extends to the edge of his fence, darling," The One murmured, his melodic voice dropping into that low, jagged rasp that made the glass frames on her desk vibrate. "My law extends to the horizon of the dark. If he wishes to grovel, he may do so to the griddle in the morning. At least the steel does not have to listen to his breath."

Catherine let out a tiny, muffled squeak from behind the comforter.

The One’s eyes cut sideways instantly, the black pupils widening until the faint ring of white around them completely disappeared. "You are still emitting sound, insect. If you do not suppress your respiratory functions, I will be forced to place your consciousness in a state of permanent suspension."

"He means he'll knock you out, Cath," Harper translated dryly, swatting his hand away from her chest. "Stop threatening my best friend. Go find something else to do. Go bother Koda."

"Koda is currently in the garage attempting to repair the vehicle I immobilized," The One said, a slow, superior smirk curling his pale lips as he took a step back, his tall frame leaning against the frame of her closet door. "He has been swearing at a piece of rusted iron for forty-two minutes. His frustration is... moderately entertaining, but the scent of grease is offensive."

He looked back at the party-sized bag of blue cheese ridges. Despite his verbal disgust for the "fungal rot," his fingers twitched slightly against the fabric of his black knit sweater.

"The white substance from this afternoon," The One murmured, his tone shifting into that specific, demanding curiosity. "The canisters with the red caps. Where are they stored?"

"In the kitchen fridge, behind the orange juice," Harper said, eyebrow raised. "Why? Are you going to go eat more of it directly from the nozzle like a gremlin?"

"A sovereign does not 'gremlin,' Harper," The One countered coldly, though the very mention of the whipped cream made the freezing air around him shift with a sudden, anticipatory spark. "I am simply ensuring the inventory is properly monitored. If your brothers have consumed the sovereign’s portion while I was occupied with the trench-worm, there will be... administrative consequences."

With another soft, vacuum-like pop, the closet space was suddenly empty. The temperature in the bedroom instantly rushed back to its normal, summer-night warmth, the condensation on the windows dripping down the glass in long, clear tracks.

The second the entity vanished, Catherine violently threw the comforter off her face, gasping for air as if she had just spent three minutes underwater. She dropped the bag of chips onto the bed, her face a mix of absolute panic and a deeply unhinged level of excitement.

"Oh my god," Catherine gasped, clutching her chest. "Oh my actual god, Harper. He is a literal monster. He just threatened to permanently suspend my respiratory functions because I breathed too loud!"

"I told you he doesn't have a filter," Harper sighed, reaching over to grab a handful of chips to settle her own nerves. "He's been like this all week. It’s like living with a mix of a Victorian tyrant and a toddler who discovered sugar."

"No, you don't understand!" Catherine grabbed Harper by the shoulders, shaking her violently. "The way he looked at you when you swatted his hand away? If Scott or anyone else in the pack tried that, their arms would be in the next county! He literally lets you talk to him like he's just some guy who left his shoes in the hallway. Harper, you are officially the keeper of the demon."

"I'm the anchor," Harper corrected quietly, her green eyes falling to her lap. She could still feel the faint, freezing static where his fingers had brushed against her hair. "The shaman said my blood broke the seal. If he destroys this pack, it’s on my hands. I’m just trying to keep him fed so he doesn't decide to turn the packhouse into a mausoleum."

"Well, keep buying the red-cap canisters, because if he runs out of whipped cream, I'm pretty sure my house is next on his graveyard tour," Catherine muttered, finally leaning back against the pillows, though she kept her eyes glued to the door as if expecting the white hair to materialize again.

Downstairs, the heavy thud of the garage door slamming shut echoed through the floorboards. Koda’s voice drifted up the stairs, loud, angry, and covered in engine grease.

"Who the hell froze the alternator?!" Koda roared from the foyer. "Kai! Tell the entity if he doesn't un-freeze my truck by tomorrow morning, I’m hiding the maple syrup in the attic!"

Harper and Catherine looked at each other, and despite the lingering terror of the night, both girls burst into another loud, unstoppable fit of laughter. The dark was still waiting at the edge of the property, and the full moon was still rising, but for tonight, the mansion was still standing—one waffle and one canister at a time.