Chapter 32 32
Gregor POV
The corridor felt longer than the throne room itself, carved of pale stone and lined with ancient tapestries of royal hunts and conquests. Every thread screamed power, intimidation, warning.
And still, all I could hear was the echo of the king’s voice, sharp as steel, branding Marigold as a thing that belonged to him.
The omegas scurried ahead, opening heavy oak doors to the guest wing, their heads still bowed so low I wondered if they even saw where they were going. Guards lingered at every corner, halberds in hand, eyes darting to me like they were waiting for me to snap.
My wolf liked that.
He wanted me to.
“Alpha Gregor,” one of the higher-ranked guards said stiffly, his crimson cape snapping with his movement. “By royal order, you and Lady Margaux will remain confined to these chambers until summoned again by His Majesty. You will be provided meals, staff, and anything you require.”
I growled before I could stop myself, a low rumble that made the guard stumble back half a step. The scent of his fear hit me like smoke. He clenched his jaw, trying to save face, but the tremor in his hands betrayed him.
“Confined?” I said, my voice sharp, cutting through the marble air. “You dare cage me like some criminal in this castle?”
The guard swallowed. “Those were the king’s orders.”
Marigold’s laugh saved the man from fainting. It was light, airy, dripping with that airhead Margaux persona Sugar drilled into her all night. “Oh, Gregor,” she sighed, fluttering her lashes as she touched my arm, the picture of spoiled, untouchable royalty. “Don’t growl at the nice man. He’s only doing his job. And besides…” She leaned closer, pretending to whisper something sweet but hissing so only I could hear, “If you scare the guards too much, they’ll probably chain us. Keep your wolf on a leash, Alpha.”
I whipped my gaze down at her. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, even as her fingers trembled ever so slightly on my sleeve. She was still afraid—but damn if she didn’t hide it better than half the royals in this hall.
Behind us, Sugar let out the most dramatic sigh I’d ever heard. “Oh, relax, murder puppy. You’re foaming at the mouth like someone stole your chew toy. Let the guards play their little power game. We all know who’d really win if it came to a fight.”
I nearly snapped. My wolf lunged against my ribs at her words, demanding to prove it.
But Marigold pinched my arm discreetly, grounding me. She murmured, her fake-sweet voice carrying just enough steel for me alone, “Don’t give them a reason. We can’t afford it right now.”
She was right. Damn her.
I turned my glare back on the guards, forcing my wolf down until my eyes bled back to human. “Fine,” I bit out. “But remember this—if anything happens to her while we’re in your king’s castle, no order, no crown, no army will protect you.”
The guard paled again and snapped a salute, practically fleeing down the hall.
The omegas opened the last door, gesturing us inside, heads still bent like we were gods walking among them.
I let Marigold step in first, but I stayed rooted in the doorway a moment longer, glaring back down the corridor, my wolf still pacing.
This castle wasn’t safe.
Not for me.
And especially not for her.
Marigold POV
Jesus. Finally.
The door shut with a heavy click, the maids scurried off like mice avoiding a cat, and I nearly collapsed on the nearest velvet chair. My legs still felt like jelly from walking out of the throne room pretending to be Miss Margaux the Graceful Swan when in reality, my wolf was one blink away from bolting.
I tugged at the ridiculous gown—silk, gold embroidery, neckline that made me look like I was about to host a royal tea party or seduce someone’s uncle at a wedding. The closet was packed with even more: heels, tiaras, jewelry boxes stacked like candy jars.
Margaux’s style, not mine.
But hey, I was alive, and that counted for something.
Across the room, Gregor paced like a caged beast. Bare feet silent on the marble, chest rising and falling too sharply, muscles taut under that thin shirt. His wolf was pressing against him, I could feel it, like the whole chamber was too small for the both of them.
Sugar flopped dramatically onto the giant canopy bed, bouncing once like a spoiled cat. “Well,” she said, holding up one jeweled slipper she’d stolen from the wardrobe. “Welcome to your new prison, your majesty. Honestly? Not bad. I’ve seen worse Airbnb setups.”
I threw a pillow at her. “Shut up. I almost died of fake smiling in there.”
She caught the pillow, smirked, then mimed a royal wave. “Oh, you were perfect. So regal. So dumb. Honestly, if you don’t win an award for ‘Best Spoiled Brat Performance,’ I’ll riot.”
I groaned and flopped back in the chair, kicking off the heels. My toes were already blistered. “I swear, my wolf wants to eat those guards alive. But nope, I had to flutter my lashes like some helpless Disney princess.”
Gregor stopped pacing, snapped his glare at me. “You did what you had to. That act is the only thing keeping you alive right now.”
“Yeah, well,” I shot back, sass sharp enough to cut glass, “maybe you could try not looking like you want to murder every single person in the castle. You were about two seconds away from ripping out the king’s throat.”
His nostrils flared, wolf glint flashing in his eyes. “Don’t tempt me.”
Sugar sat up, smirking, enjoying every second of this like it was Netflix live. “Oh gods, please do. The scandal! The drama! Alpha Gregor, the broody outlaw, kills the king in the throne room to protect his not-fiancée. Honestly, I’d pay money to see that soap opera.”
I threw my second pillow at her. “Sugar!”
She ducked, cackling, then sprawled on the bed again like she owned the place.
Meanwhile, Gregor went back to pacing. His jaw clenched, his fists tight at his sides, like he was about to shatter the furniture. My wolf, traitorous thing, perked up every time he turned, every time his shadow loomed.
And that was when it hit me—this was it. The calm before whatever storm was coming next. A gilded cage. Food and dresses and pretty rooms. And still, every corner screamed danger.
I looked at him again. The alpha with blood still humming in his veins. The only one between me and death.
“Gregor,” I said softly, just once.
He froze mid-step, head turning toward me.
Sugar immediately groaned, threw her arm over her face. “Oh gods, here it comes. The angst. The eye contact. Don’t mind me, I’ll just narrate—‘And in that moment, their forbidden love burned brighter than the chandelier.’”
I hurled a shoe at her. She screamed, ducked, then laughed so hard she rolled right off the bed.
Even Gregor’s lip twitched.
But when his eyes locked with mine again, the wolf in him was still restless, still dangerous. And for the first time, I wondered if he was pacing not just because of the king… but because of me.