Chapter 49 49
It started with smoke. Thin trails curling under the doors, then bursting into the room in choking gray clouds. Wolves coughed, rose to their feet. And then the assassins poured in—masks, blades, no pack scent. Rogues.
It was mayhem. Howling, screaming and death.
I barely had time to gasp before Alpha Gregor was on me. His arm crushed me against him, his body shielding mine like a wall of muscle and fury.
“Stay behind me.”
The next moments were a blur of claws and steel. A blade slashed near my arm—I yelped, the sting hot and sudden—and Gregor roared. Not spoke. Roared. His warrior dark wolf nearly tore free as he ripped the attacker aside like a ragdoll. Blood spattered marble. Sugar, in the corner, eyeing Prince Leon like he was the vintage wine, hurled her wine glass at another rogue and screamed, “YOU PICKED THE WRONG BANQUET!”
Somehow, hilariously, she didn’t miss.
Alpha Gregor dragged me to a corner, his hand gripping my waist too tightly, his voice raw against my ear:
“You will not die. Not while I breathe.”
I was shaking. My sass had fled somewhere into the smoke. All I managed was a weak:
“Well—don’t make promises you can’t keep, Alpha.”
But my hand clung to his shirt anyway. Hard. Because my wolf wanted out…and that was the risk we couldn't have.
By the time the guards stormed in and the last rogue bled out on polished floors, the banquet was ruined. Wolves growled, elders shouted, and whispers flew like arrows. All suspicion swung back to the Wolfgangs. War was no longer a rumor; it was bleeding right there on the marble.
The King, calm and terrible, declared: “The Wolfgang Pack will answer for this.”
His eyes slid to Alpha Gregor then—assessing, calculating—and I knew what it meant. He suspected, he watched, and if Alpha Gregor so much as slipped near me again, the King would cut him down.
But Gregor? He only stood taller, chest heaving, blood staining his cuffs, his eyes finding mine across the storm of politics.
And in that moment—everyone shouting, the hall reeking of smoke and iron—I realized two dangerous truths:
War had just been set into motion.
And I would burn in it if I let myself fall for the brooding Alpha who had just sworn his breath for mine.
Gregor POV
That was truly unexpected.
How in the hell was that even possible inside the castle grounds — inside a royal banquet hall where the King, the Queen, and the Crown Prince of the entire werewolf kingdom sat drinking their wine under triple-locked security? Rogues had walked in dressed as pack delegates, as Wolfgangs no less, and launched an attack. The floor still smelled of spilled wine and iron, like some blasphemous communion.
It didn’t add up. It couldn’t add up.
I’d spent the entire evening on high alert, half because of Marigold, half because of the knot in my gut that told me trouble was coming. And still — even with every nerve on fire — I’d barely been fast enough. Rogues had slipped through layers of palace guards like it was a village festival. Someone had handed them guest tokens. Someone had backed them.
The Prince was out of the question. I’d seen Leon’s face across the hall in the middle of the chaos — the same shock and anger carved into his jaw as mine. That wasn’t a man running an op. That was a man blindsided, furious.
And thank the goddess no one noticed his reflex. Because when the first blade flew, he hadn’t shielded his supposed future bride. He’d lunged for Sugar. His entire body had gone for the assistant, not the princess. Anyone else might have been too panicked to register it. But I did. My wolf did. It filed it away like a scent on the wind.
Now, hours later, the banquet hall was locked down and the royal council was already spinning, guards stationed at every door. I’d gotten Marigold back to her guest rooms, Sugar trailing behind in a dazed, wine-smeared haze. The girl had nerves of steel for throwing a goblet at a rogue but she’d been white as paper afterward.
I stood in the corridor outside Marigold’s suite, gray pants rolled at the ankle, suit gone, shirt still stiff with dried blood, staring at my own reflection in a gilt mirror like it might give me answers. My wolf paced under my skin, restless. The need to go back inside, to check her pulse, to make sure she was still breathing, was a constant burn behind my ribs.
But I couldn’t give in. Not tonight. Not with a hundred eyes on us.
I dug my phone out of my jacket and stepped into the alcove near the stairwell, away from any prying ears. The line to Zach hissed twice before he answered.
“Alpha?” His voice was low, clipped. He always knew when I called like this.
“Tell me you’ve got eyes inside that hall,” I muttered, my voice a growl even in human form. “Tell me what the hell that was.”
A pause. Paper shuffling. “We’ve been monitoring the council since Thunder’s death,” Zach said. “Your instincts were right — someone’s feeding information to Wolfgang loyalists. But this wasn’t just Wolfgang. The rogues tonight weren’t packless. They were paid. Maybe, Black Fang. Not sure. Symbols and coin trace back to an offshore consortium—”
“I don’t care about coins.” My hand gripped the phone until my knuckles cracked. “Who?”
Zach exhaled. “The council factions tied to the Queen are unusually quiet. The King’s men are screaming ‘war’ already, but their reports to each other are inconsistent. Some orders to reduce guard rotations came from the Queen’s private chamber. But no direct signature. Nothing we can hold up in daylight.”
My stomach went cold. “So either the King let this happen…”
“Or,” Zach finished grimly, “the Queen did.”
I stared out the window at the drenched gardens. Rain sluiced down the glass like melted steel. “And you’re sure Leon isn’t playing his own game?”
“Positive,” Zach said. “He was furious. If he’s scheming, it’s not this. But the King’s hands…” another pause, “They’re too clean, Alpha. Either he’s completely innocent or he’s a ghost behind the curtain. Either way, this was an act of war. Someone wants to make Wolfgang a scapegoat and force a break before the Prince can consolidate the eastern delegates.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “And Marigold?”
“She’s the perfect fuse, hidden CCTV was perfect.” Zach said simply. “Future princess. Past Wolfgang ties. Everyone gains if she’s snatched or discredited. Everyone but us.”
My wolf surged, a low rumble building in my chest. I shoved it down. “Double surveillance on every council member linked to the Queen,” I ordered. “No slip-ups. I want names, numbers, and if one of them even sneezes near the Wolfgang pack, I want to know before the echo dies.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
I hung up and stood there in the dim corridor, the phone still warm against my palm, the storm outside hammering at the windows. My wolf’s claws scraped along my skin from the inside. It wanted to go to her. To curl around her like a shield and snarl at the whole damned court.
But instead, I pushed my back to the wall and slid down until I was sitting on the cold marble floor like a soldier waiting for a verdict.
Everything in me screamed: protect her.
Everything around me whispered: you’re already one breath from being executed if they find out you’re not just protecting her.
Somewhere down the hall, Sugar’s laugh rang — brittle, too high — and Marigold’s voice followed, low and sweet and threaded with steel. They were playing their roles. The maids were already carrying back reports to the council. The King would have his watchers.
And me? I would pretend my wolf wasn’t pacing like a caged predator, replaying the memory of her in my arms at the banquet — the smell of her hair under smoke, the flash of her eyes, the sound she’d made when she realized I wasn’t going to let her fall.
This wasn’t just politics anymore. This was blood and teeth.
And if my instincts were right, the next move would not be a banquet. It would be war.