Chapter 50 50
GREGOR POV
The next day.
The council chamber smelled of old parchment and steel polish, the kind of scent that made my wolf bristle. It was too clean. Too staged. Like every word said here would be etched into stone—or used to hang a man.
And yet here I was. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Marigold.
I could feel the heat of her through the ridiculous silk gown they stuffed her in this morning. It brushed against my arm whenever she shifted even slightly. And she shifted a lot—deliberately, I knew. She was playing Margaux, the spoiled royal bride-to-be, all wide eyes and little huffs of annoyance. But to me? Every brush of fabric was fire.
“Alpha Gregor,” one of the old councilors with silver hair and a sneer cleared his throat. “We ask again—how did rogues infiltrate the banquet hall? You were guarding the bride. You were… closest.”
Closest. If only he knew.
My jaw tightened. “Because the rogues were invited.” My voice was steel, flat. The councilors shifted. “Masquerading as Wolfgang Pack. Either someone inside failed their duty… or they opened the damn gates for them.”
Gasps. The queen’s fan snapped closed. The King’s golden eyes flicked to me. Sharp. Calculating. “Are you suggesting treason within my council, Alpha Gregor?”
“I’m suggesting treason within your castle walls.” I held his gaze. Unflinching. “And if last night proved anything—it’s that you have a leak. One that nearly cost your son’s future bride her life.”
At that, Marigold shifted again. Her perfume—something faintly citrus and maddening—hit my senses. My wolf stirred. Ours, it growled. Protect her. Claim her. She belongs—
I cut it off. Not here. Not now.
The council murmured louder. I kept my eyes forward, but I felt Marigold’s gaze slide sideways to me. Her lips parted. Just a fraction. Pink, perfect. Goddess help me, I remembered their taste—soft, fiery, like sin and salvation wrapped in one. My wolf lunged at the memory, clawing to break through.
The King’s gaze snapped between us. His fingers drummed the armrest of his throne. He saw it—saw something. And when he spoke, his voice was low, deliberate. “The council will continue its inquiry. Until then, Alpha Gregor, you are to remain at Margaux’s side at all times. Her safety is now your sole duty.”
The words landed like chains.
I bowed. “As you command.”
But I caught it—just for a heartbeat—the faintest twitch of the King’s mouth. The barest flicker of something like amusement. Or maybe warning.
Beside me, Marigold exhaled like she’d been holding her breath all along. I dared a glance at her. She dared one back. And just like that—we were locked again.
Two fools, trying not to stare at each other’s lips in a room full of wolves waiting to slit my throat.
My wolf growled. Chains or not… she’s ours.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t know if I could fight it much longer.
The council chamber emptied like a slow bleed, one elder at a time, their whispers trailing behind them like smoke. The King left last, his golden eyes sharp on me as though he’d branded me in silence. I didn’t move until the heavy oak doors closed, the echo rolling through the hall like thunder.
Finally, it was just us.
Marigold beside me. Too close. Too tempting.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, running a hand through my hair. “Do you have any idea how close you were to being torn apart last night?” My voice came out rougher than intended, laced with the growl of my wolf that had been simmering since the attack. God, I was so worried.
Her chin snapped up, all fire and defiance. “Do you have any idea how close you were to being executed in there? You stared down the King like he was some village drunk.”
I leaned in, just enough that the hall’s flickering torchlight caught her eyes. “Better me than you.”
She froze, lips parting. The wolf in me howled at the sight of her—those lips I’d already tasted once, lips I was dying to taste again. Every nerve in me pulled taut, begging to close the space between us.
And maybe I would have. Maybe I would’ve ruined everything then and there—if the footsteps hadn’t come.
“Gregor.”
I turned. Prince Leon stood at the far end of the hall, cloak half undone, his expression unusually grave.
He approached, fast and purposeful, his boots striking stone. “I wasn’t at council.” His eyes flicked to Marigold briefly before locking on me. “My mother sent me east—to handle unrest in the human territories.”
I narrowed my gaze. “The Queen sent you away?”
His jaw clenched. “She said she feared humans were plotting against us. That they’ve grown bolder, jealous of our dominion. She thinks they’re the ones backing the rogues. That the Wolfgang Pack… might just be pawns.”
Marigold sucked in a breath. Her hand brushed the folds of her gown, but I caught the tremor there. I couldn’t stop myself from stepping closer, just enough to steady her with my presence.
“Do you believe her?” I asked.
Prince Leon hesitated, his eyes flicking between us. “I don’t know. But the humans do have motive. If our kingdom fractures—if the rogues keep destabilizing us—it’s only a matter of time before the humans strike. They want our kind extinct.”
The words hung heavy. I felt my wolf bristle under my skin, claws itching to tear into something unseen. “And what do you think, Your Highness?”
Prince Leon’s eyes hardened. “I think there’s a traitor. Maybe in the Wolfgangs. Maybe closer.” He glanced, deliberately, toward the council chamber doors. “And until we know who it is, none of us are safe.”
The silence after that was suffocating.
Marigold’s lashes lowered, hiding her expression, but I could feel it—the tension rolling off her, the fear she’d never admit out loud. I wanted to reach for her, pull her behind me, shield her from everything: councils, kings, queens, traitors, even Leon.
But I didn’t.
Because I could still feel the King’s gaze in the back of my skull, even from afar. I knew he’d planted his eyes and ears on me. On us.
So instead, I drew in a sharp breath and said the only thing I could. “Then we hunt the traitor. And we do it fast. Before another banquet turns into a massacre.”
Leon nodded, grim, but before he could answer, Sugar’s voice drifted from down the hall. “Oh my goddess. Are we conspiring without me? Rude!”
Marigold almost choked on a laugh. I pinched the bridge of my nose, growling under my breath.
The Prince arched a brow. “You three seem… close.”
Too close. Far too close.
And with the Queen playing her own game, with humans possibly moving their pawns, and with Marigold’s lips still haunting me—I realized with sick certainty that the next move would either save us… or start a war.