Chapter 11 11
So we ended up at a shabby little Chinese restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a vape shop. Thankfully, they accepted QR payments from Gregor’s phone. I was about to pass out from hunger, so I didn’t even complain when the food came out steaming hot, full of peppers that looked like weapons.
The first bite lit my tongue on fire. “Oh my god,” I choked, fanning my mouth. “This is lava.”
Gregor, of course, ate like it was nothing. Shoveling noodles and dumplings like a man starved for decades. “Weak,” he said between bites.
“Excuse me?” I sputtered, grabbing my water. “This food was cooked in the pits of hell. If my tongue doesn’t survive this, I’m haunting you.”
He smirked, which was unfair because he looked way too good doing it, even in that ridiculous hoodie. “At least you’ll finally be quiet.”
I jabbed my chopsticks in his direction. “One day, Gregor. One day, I’ll watch you trip over your own ego.”
“And when that day comes,” he leaned closer, eyes glinting with something more dangerous than humor, “you’ll still follow me.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my brain. But I couldn’t deny it—the spark between us was there, humming like static under my skin.
We ate like wolves in disguise, finishing every plate until we slumped back in our chairs, bellies full and cheeks flushed. The spicy heat clung to my lips, and when Gregor’s gaze lingered there for a second too long, I looked away, heart thudding traitorously.
Stupid hoodie. Stupid Alpha. Stupid chemistry.
And yet… for the first time in days, I felt almost human. Almost normal. Almost like this wasn’t just running for our lives.
Like it was the beginning of something neither of us could fight forever.
So we ended up waiting for Zach's calls in the inn again.
A few hours later…
We were supposed to meet Zack’s men. That was the plan. Simple, right? Except the universe hates me, because the ones waiting at the corner weren’t pack allies. Nope. Black Fang scouts. In human territory.
“Gregor,” I hissed, ducking behind a parked car as three hulking wolves-turned-men sniffed the air. “They followed us.”
His jaw flexed, eyes narrowing. “Of course they did. My mistake was expecting Zack’s men to be on time.”
“You’re blaming him?!” I whispered furiously. “You were the one strutting down Main Street in a pink Kiss the Cook hoodie like a neon target!”
Gregor growled low in his throat, scanning the street. “Stay behind me. If they make a move—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I waved him off, “big bad Alpha, blink of an eye, yadda yadda. Can we not kill people in front of a bakery, though? Humans notice these things.”
He gave me a look that said you test me daily, before grabbing my wrist and pulling me back toward the shabby inn we’d abandoned earlier.
By the time we slammed the door shut and bolted the lock, my heart was hammering.
“Well,” I said, collapsing onto the bed, “that was fun. Ten out of ten. Would not recommend.”
Gregor was pacing, tension pouring off him in waves. “We’re compromised here. If Zack doesn’t get through, we’re sitting ducks.”
I tugged the blanket over my head dramatically. “Oh no, stuck in an inn with a brooding Alpha. Whatever shall I do? Die of boredom?”
He ripped the blanket away, glaring. “This isn’t a joke.”
“It’s a little bit a joke,” I muttered.
Our stomachs growled in unison. Loudly. Again. Okay, blame werewolf appetite.
“Fine,” he sighed, pulling out his phone. “Let’s order something.”
“Wow, the mighty Alpha, reduced to food delivery. Historic moment.”
The inn didn’t exactly offer gourmet dining. But twenty minutes later, we had coffee in paper cups, a stack of store-bought cookies, two sad chocolate bars, and steaming cups of Korean noodles that smelled like heaven.
Gregor set mine down. “Eat.”
“Yes, sir,” I mocked, but the second I slurped the noodles, I nearly moaned. “Oh my god. This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Marry me, ramen.”
His eyebrow twitched. “Are you seriously proposing to noodles?”
“They’re hot, reliable, and don’t brood at me 24/7. So yeah.”
The corner of his mouth almost curved. Almost. But instead, he leaned back with his own cup, hoodie still glaringly pink in the glow of the tiny bedside lamp.
Then, mid-bite, it hit me. “Wait. How are we even paying for this? Didn’t the bank guy call you a scammer?”
Gregor lifted his phone smugly. “QR still works.”
I nearly choked on a cookie. “So let me get this straight—you can’t pull money from a bank because apparently neon pink screams fraud, but you can pay for ramen?”
“Priorities,” he said simply.
I flopped back against the pillows, laughing helplessly. “This is it. My life now. Stuck in a crappy inn with stale cookies, no internet, a little TV that probably only plays infomercials, and an Alpha who sulks like it’s an Olympic sport.”
Gregor’s gaze flicked toward me, quiet but sharp. “Better than dead.”
I snorted, tearing into the chocolate bar. “Debatable.”
But beneath the banter, beneath the sass, I felt the weight of it—the danger outside, the way we were cornered, the unspoken fact that for now… all we had was this: noodles, neon hoodies, and each other.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the scariest part of all.
The chocolate had barely melted on my tongue when I heard it—low voices at the reception desk.
“…are you sure they’re here?” one growled.
The answering voice was all teeth. “I can smell them. Upstairs. Second floor.”
My blood froze.
Gregor’s head snapped toward me, eyes glowing like molten gold. “Run.”
We bolted for the back exit, footsteps pounding down the stairwell, the neon “Kiss the Cook” hoodie flapping wildly on Gregor’s massive shoulders. We crashed into the alley—only to find shadows shifting, bodies already waiting.
Ten of them. Black Fang wolves.
“Well,” I muttered, “this looks cozy.”
Gregor didn’t even glance at me. His voice dropped to something primal. “Shift.”
His wolf exploded from him in a violent snap of muscle and fur, the pink hoodie shredding to ribbons as his massive black wolf shook himself free. He looked like death carved in fur, his eyes burning, his teeth gleaming.
And me? I was still standing there like an idiot.
“Now,” he growled in my head.
I shifted. Bones cracked, fur erupted, and my smaller wolf stretched into the night air. Compared to his hulking size, I was half his mass. If he was a thunderstorm, I was… a sharp breeze at best.
The Black Fang didn’t wait. They lunged.
Gregor was a blur. He slammed into the first wolf, ripping out its throat with a wet crunch. Blood sprayed, painting the alley walls.
Another wolf came at me. Instinct took over—I ducked low, teeth snapping at his legs. To my shock, I tore through tendon, and he collapsed with a screech.
Holy shit. Did I just do that?
No time to think. The third wolf barreled into me, claws raking across my side. Pain exploded, but my wolf snapped back harder, jaws clamping onto his ear, tearing it clean off.
Snarls and screams filled the alley.
Gregor fought like a beast unleashed. His jaws ripped a wolf’s rib cage apart, his claws tore chunks of flesh, fur, and bone. He moved with terrifying precision—lethal, brutal, efficient. Every strike was death.
Me? I was sloppy, messy, loud—but it worked. Another wolf lunged, and I panicked, slamming him into a garbage can. My teeth found his neck, biting until he stilled.
My heart thundered. I just killed my own kind.
But there was no time to mourn. Another wolf lunged, and I whipped around, claws sinking deep into his flank. My jaws tore at his shoulder until blood filled my mouth.
“You’re fighting,” Gregor’s voice thundered in my head mid-battle, “like a true Dark Warrior.”
I wanted to scream at him, this isn’t me! But then another wolf sank teeth into my hind leg, dragging me down.
Gregor roared, a sound that rattled the buildings. He launched himself at the wolf pinning me, tearing it off me in two brutal strikes—one claw to the gut, one bite to the jugular. The wolf collapsed in a twitching heap.
Snarls. Cries. Crashes.