Chapter 58 59
GREGOR POV
The dawn had only just started to breathe light across the skyline when I slipped from Marigold’s suite. Her scent still clung to me—lavender, smoke, and the faintest note of blood that only I could taste when I kissed her raw lips.
I had promised her I’d be back before breakfast. I meant it.
But my wolf, restless and snarling beneath my skin, already sensed the crack in the air.
The city was too still.
The hum of the car’s engine did little to distract me. One of my men was at the wheel, eyes scanning the empty streets, while two more rode behind us in a second vehicle. We were heading for the little coffee shop Xander and I used for off-the-record meetings—neutral territory where spies couldn’t easily sniff us out. He had something new, something about the human territories that couldn’t wait.
That should’ve been a normal morning. Routine.
Then the SUVs appeared.
One, two, five, then ten of them—black steel monsters that roared out of the alleys and blocked the road like a wall of teeth. The crests on their doors glinted in the dim light. The royal seal.
My guard cursed under his breath, jamming the brakes. Tires screeched, the smell of burning rubber clawed at the air.
The doors of those SUVs opened in perfect unison. And out stepped the Black Fang.
Dozens of them, then hundreds. All in sharp suits, black ties, gloves—wolves dressed like gentlemen, but their eyes were all feral gold, cold and sharp with intent.
The pavement shook with their boots.
“Alpha Gregor,” one of them barked, voice booming through the stillness. He held up a heavy parchment, the seal broken and smoking faintly as though it had been pressed with fire. “By decree of the Crown, you are under arrest for treason.”
The word sank into me like a blade.
Treason.
Before I could answer, my wolf slammed against my ribs, demanding blood. My men reacted first—guns drawn, silver bullets chambered. The Black Fang raised theirs in unison.
The street became a standoff of teeth, claws, and steel.
“I don’t bow to paper,” I growled, pushing the car door open. The cool air rushed against me, carrying with it the scents of wolfsbane, silver, and death. “If you want me, you’ll bleed for me.”
And then the fight erupted.
Bullets tore through the dawn. The first Black Fang to charge met the barrel of my gun—silver shredded his skull, blood and fur exploding across the pavement. My men opened fire, their weapons chattering, ripping through the first wave.
But the Black Fang were relentless.
They surged forward, shifting mid-stride. Suits tore. Bones cracked and stretched. Wolves, massive and black as shadows, lunged at us, eyes glowing like embers.
My guard to the left had his throat torn out before I could even shout. Blood sprayed across the car, hot and metallic. Another went down under three wolves, his screams drowned in the wet ripping of flesh.
I shifted, bones breaking, muscle tearing as my beast exploded outward. My vision sharpened, my claws ripped through leather gloves, and I met the charge head-on.
The first wolf that leapt for me, I caught by the jaws. I wrenched them apart until bone split with a crack, tossing the carcass aside as I lunged for another. My claws sank into his belly, tearing it open until his insides spilled across the pavement.
Gunfire lit the street, silver sparks spraying, wolfsbane grenades thrown that burned my skin raw even when I dodged them. The Black Fang had prepared for this. They had come armed to kill.
But so had I.
My wolf reveled in the chaos. I ripped, slashed, crushed throats, shattered skulls against the concrete. My men fought savagely, but we were outnumbered ten to one. For every Fang that fell, two more swarmed from the SUVs.
I heard my Beta’s voice through the bond—faint, desperate, trying to reach me—but the wolfsbane smoke choked it. Cut it off.
My last guard fought like a demon, his claws carving through three at once before a blade coated in wolfsbane drove into his chest. He dropped with a guttural cry, eyes wide, blood gurgling from his lips.
Rage split me in half.
I carved a path through them, my body drenched in blood that wasn’t all theirs. My skin burned from bullets lodged too deep to dig out. My claws dripped with gore. Still I fought, because the only thought hammering through my skull was Marigold.
Her eyes. Her lips. Her voice telling me to mark her.
My mate.
I had promised her I’d return.
And yet—
A silver net exploded over me, searing into my flesh like fire. I roared, tearing against it, shredding cords, but more dropped from above, tangling, burning, tightening around my limbs.
Dozens of Fangs pinned me, their boots and claws pressing me into the pavement. I felt knives drive into me, wolfsbane lacing every wound. My body convulsed, my wolf thrashing until the poison began to sink into my veins.
The world dimmed.
Through the blur, I saw them drag my last guard’s lifeless body into a van. Saw them kick aside the corpses of their own, like pawns discarded. Saw their leader step closer, his face blank, voice like ice.
“The Crown doesn’t need your death yet, Alpha. Just your silence.”
And then darkness took me.
When I woke, it was not to sunlight.
The dungeon reeked of rot and damp stone. Chains bit into my wrists and ankles, silver shackles that hissed against my skin, burning deeper each time I moved.
Blood still trickled down my side, sticky and half-dried, soaking the torn remnants of my shirt. My throat was raw, lips split.
And yet all I could think of—through the ache, through the fury, through the bitter taste of betrayal—was her.
Marigold.
Had she heard yet? Did she know? Would she think I’d abandoned her?
Or worse—was she next?
I lifted my head, the chains rattling. My wolf snarled inside me, battered but unbroken.
Someone had betrayed me.
Someone had fed the Black Fang their timing, their numbers, their proof.
And whoever it was, I swore by the blood staining my hands, I would tear their heart from their chest.
But first—I had to survive.
For her.
For us.
Because war wasn’t tomorrow.
It had already begun.