Chapter 16 16
The knock at the door nearly had me dropping my soup bowl into my lap. Gregor was already halfway to wolf-growling again, stalking toward the door like he expected Black Fang assassins to be waiting outside. Nonna, however, didn’t flinch—she just smacked his arm with her spoon.
“Sit, lupo. If death was knocking, he wouldn’t be so polite.”
Gregor yanked the door open anyway, and instead of a squad of killers, a drenched teenage boy with a mop of curly hair stood there, holding a basket of herbs that looked way too heavy for him. His clothes were damp, mud splattered up his pants, and he smelled like forest and adrenaline.
“Alpha Gregor,” the boy breathed, lowering his head respectfully.
“Danny?” Gregor blinked, surprise flashing in his stormy eyes.
Nonna’s face softened instantly, shuffling forward. “Ah, Daniello! Mio ragazzo!” She kissed both his cheeks, smacking the mud off his shoulders. “You’ve grown taller, eh? And skinnier. What are they feeding you in the pack? Dry crackers?”
“Uh—” Danny shuffled awkwardly, shooting Gregor a nervous glance. “Zach sent me. Said it was safer this way. The royals… they cut him off from the net. No comms, no phones, no nothing. He’s under watch twenty-four seven. He couldn’t risk a direct message.”
Gregor’s jaw tightened. “So they silenced him.”
Danny nodded, shifting the basket in his arms. “He told me to say the herbs were for Nonna, but really… he needed me to deliver a warning. The cottage is safe—for now. But not for long. You can’t stay more than two or three days, tops. He’s trying to dig for answers, but… Alpha, someone ordered a hit on you and Margaux. From high up. Royal-level high.”
I froze mid-bite. “Excuse me—did you just casually say we’ve got a royal bounty on our heads like we’re some Black Market Pokémon cards?”
Danny flushed. “I-I’m just repeating what Zach said, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” I gagged on my soup. “Oh, no, no. You do not ‘ma’am’ me. I’m not old enough to be your math teacher, pup.”
Nonna cackled, patting Danny’s cheek. “Ignore her. She doesn’t like to admit she’s aging.”
“NONNA!”
But Gregor was already pacing, his whole aura shifting back into military mode. “Tell Zach this: find the snake in my pack. Someone betrayed me while I was gone, and I want a name. Xander, my Beta, will dig into Prince Leon’s whereabouts. Something stinks, and I need to know if this trail leads to the royal court—or higher.”
Danny straightened, looking like he wanted to salute. “Yes, Alpha.”
“Be discreet,” Gregor growled, voice low and dangerous. “One whisper to the wrong ear and you’ll be dead before you leave the city.”
“Got it.” The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He turned to leave, then hesitated, glancing back at me. “Uh… good luck, ma—uh, miss.”
“Better,” I said sweetly, waving my breadstick like a baton. “And hey, Danny? Next time, don’t sneak up with herbal soup delivery like you’re the Avon lady. My heart can’t handle it.”
Danny gave a nervous laugh and bolted out the door, disappearing into the rain.
The cottage fell quiet again. Only the crackle of the fire and the simmer of soup in the pot filled the room. Gregor stood stiff, still staring at the closed door like he could burn holes through it.
Nonna, on the other hand, plopped back into her chair with a sigh. “All this tension, and not once do either of you thank me for the soup. You’ll regret it when I stop cooking.”
I shoved another chunk of bread into my mouth immediately. “Grazie, Nonna. You’re my savior.”
“Finally,” she muttered, sipping her wine.
I leaned back in my chair, giving Gregor the side-eye. “So… to recap. We’re fugitives, somebody ordered a royal hit on us, your Beta is running errands for a prince, and Zach’s grounded by the monarchy. Meanwhile, we’re here pretending this cottage is an Airbnb with free soup.”
Gregor’s dark gaze landed on me, unreadable, heavy. “This isn’t a game, Marigold.”
I smirked, though my stomach was tightening. “Oh, I know. But if the world’s trying to kill me, I might as well die with carbs in my mouth.”
Nonna snorted so hard she nearly spilled her wine. “Ragazza, you’ll outlive us all.”
But even as she laughed, the fire flickered strangely—long shadows dancing up the walls. Nonna’s eyes, sharp and knowing, slid to Gregor. “The boy brought more than herbs tonight. He carried whispers on his back. Shadows follow him too. You should not waste your two or three days here arguing. The hunt has already begun.”
The room went colder.
And Gregor’s fists clenched at his sides.
And me? I yawned.
Two or three more days in the cottage with Alpha Doom-and-Gloom Gregor, Nonna’s enchanted soup rotation, and one teenage werewolf courier playing messenger pigeon—it was either heaven or hell. I still couldn’t decide.
The cottage itself wasn’t much—two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen that constantly smelled like tomatoes and herbs, and a fireplace that creaked at night like ghosts were gossiping. Outside, the storm never seemed to end. Inside, it was warm, almost cozy. Almost. If you ignored the fact that Gregor paced like a caged tiger in one corner while I tried to eat my body weight in breadsticks in the other.
On the second night, I finally lost patience.
“You know,” I said, licking soup off my spoon, “you’re going to wear a hole in Nonna’s rug with all that pacing. Then she’ll hex you into a toad, and honestly? It might improve your personality.”
Gregor’s head snapped toward me, his eyes flashing gold in the firelight. “I’m thinking.”
“Really? I thought you were auditioning for a wolf-themed Broadway show called Anxious Alpha: The Musical.”
Nonna cackled from her rocking chair, sipping wine like this was her personal telenovela. “You see, ragazzo? She is the spice to your salt. You need balance.”
Gregor pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s not my spice.”
“Excuse me?” I slammed my spoon down. “If anything, you’re the bland chicken breast in this dynamic, not me.”
Nonna wheezed so hard she had to wipe her eyes. “Mamma mia, you two. If the Black Fangs don’t kill you, your bickering will.”
Gregor muttered something that sounded suspiciously like preferable.
I narrowed my eyes. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” He went back to pacing.
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed. “You know what your problem is? You act like you’re Atlas carrying the world on your back, when really, you’re just a dude in a sulky mood with control issues.”
His head whipped around. “Control issues?”
“Yes. Control issues. You can’t even let me stir the soup without glaring at me like I’m going to summon a demon in the pot.”
“That’s because you stir counterclockwise,” he growled. “It’s unnatural.”
“It’s soup, not witchcraft!”
Nonna clapped her hands like a delighted child. “Finalmente! Now it feels like home.”
Gregor exhaled like he was ready to throw himself off a cliff. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re constipated. Emotionally.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. For a second, I thought he might actually lunge across the cottage and throttle me—but instead, his lips twitched. Just slightly. So faint I almost missed it.
Was that… almost a smile?
I blinked, thrown off balance. “Did you just—was that a smile? Did you crack your stone face?”
“No,” he said too quickly.
Nonna snorted. “He smiled. I saw it.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“Nonna—”
“Don’t argue with your elders, lupo.” She pointed her spoon at him like a weapon.
Gregor growled. I grinned. Victory.
The fire crackled. Rain tapped against the windows. For one heartbeat, the tension dipped—just enough for my chest to ache with something dangerously close to warmth.
Then Nonna’s voice cut through, sharp and knowing: “The storm outside is nothing compared to the storm coming for you two. Fate is pulling tighter. The king, the hunters, the traitors in the pack. You can’t outrun it forever.”
Silence blanketed the room.
Gregor’s jaw locked again, the brief flicker of softness gone. He sat heavily in the chair across from me, elbows on his knees, staring into the fire like it might tell him all the answers.
I poked at my soup, suddenly restless. “So what now? We just… hide out here, wait for the sky to fall?”
His eyes lifted to mine. Dark. Intense. “No. We prepare. We get stronger.” His gaze flicked over me, assessing. “You fought well against the Black Fangs, even untrained. But you’re too loud, too reckless—”
I bristled. “Gee, thanks.”
“—but it means your instincts are there. They just need honing.”
I groaned, covering my face. “Please don’t tell me you’re about to pull a Karate Kid and make me wax floors or lift soup pots as training.”
Nonna perked up. “That is actually a very good idea. Builds muscle.”
“Nonna!”
Gregor ignored us both, leaning back with that broody commander aura. “Tomorrow, we train.”
I dropped my spoon with a clatter. “Fantastic. Stranded in a storm, hunted by assassins, and now free bootcamp with the world’s grumpiest instructor. Sign me up.”
Nonna raised her glass. “To lovebirds in denial.”
Gregor and I chorused, “WE’RE NOT—”
But Nonna just winked at me over her wine.
And for the first time in a long while, despite the looming storm, despite the danger waiting just outside these cozy walls—I laughed.