Chapter 59 60
MARIGOLD POV
I knew something was wrong the moment breakfast came and went without him.
Gregor wasn’t late. Not when it came to me. Not after last night—after the heat, the rawness, the confession that slipped from my lips when his fangs nearly grazed my neck. I had begged him to mark me, damn it. I had begged because tomorrow wasn’t promised, because war was at our throats, because I didn’t know if we’d ever get another moment to breathe.
But he had kissed me instead, tender and desperate, and promised he’d return by dawn.
And yet, when the sun climbed, when the clock dragged past eight, nine, ten, the suite remained empty. His scent—thick, warm, unmistakable—was fading from the sheets.
A gnawing dread clawed at my ribs.
By the time Sugar slipped into the room, pale and tight-lipped, I already knew.
“Marigold,” she whispered, eyes flicking to the guards stationed outside the door. Her fingers trembled as she passed me the folded note she’d hidden up her sleeve. “Don’t scream. Don’t draw attention. Just read.”
I snatched the note, tore it open. The handwriting wasn’t Gregor’s. It was jagged, hurried. Xander’s.
He’s been taken. Black Fang. Dungeon. Council will parade him today. The bait still stands. Trust no one.
“I demand to know,” I said, rising from my seat with every ounce of Margaux’s poise I could muster, “on what grounds you dare arrest Alpha Gregor.”
My voice carried, sharp as a whip crack. The chamber hushed. All those silks and smug faces turned toward me. The Queen leaned back, her lips curving into that poisonous smile that made me want to claw it right off her face.
“The grounds,” she purred, “will be made plain.”
A maid—one of mine, or rather, one of Margaux’s—was dragged to the center of the chamber. Her eyes darted, shifty, too wide. She bowed low, voice quivering just the right amount to look pitiful and sincere.
“I—I saw Alpha Gregor,” she stammered, “entering the princess’s suite last night. He did not leave until early dawn. And I…” She glanced down, feigning shame. “I heard them. Together. In bed.”
A ripple of scandal rolled through the council.
Perfect. Just what the Queen wanted.
I forced my face to remain neutral, though every inch of me screamed.
I should blush. I should wilt. That’s what any sane woman would do when her private life was dragged into a council chamber like a dirty bedsheet.
But Margaux wouldn’t. Margaux never blushed. Margaux thrived on scandal.
So, I straightened my shoulders, raised a brow, and let out the most pointed laugh I could muster.
“Really?” I said, my tone dripping sarcasm. “You heard us? And that’s your grand evidence? Forgive me, but eavesdropping on your betters doesn’t make you a witness. It makes you a peeping maid with too much free time.”
A few gasps. A stifled chuckle from one of the younger lords.
I tilted my head, let my eyes glint. “Tell me, dear—do you also take notes during these… observations? Or is your memory so fragile you must invent details to impress your mistress?”
For a moment, I thought I’d won. The maid’s lip trembled, the council shifting uneasily. Even the King leaned forward, perhaps considering whether this “evidence” was worth the scandal it caused.
But then—
“Your Majesty,” a voice cut through.
One of Gregor’s own guards stepped forward. My blood ran cold.
The driver. The one he trusted.
He bowed low and held up a small black USB between two fingers.
“I was tasked with safeguarding this,” he said gravely, “and I believe the council should see it. It contains proof. Unquestionable proof.”
My stomach dropped.
No.
No, no, no.
The words blurred. My vision tunneled. For a heartbeat, the world tilted sideways and I thought I might collapse right there.
Taken. Dungeon.
Bait still stands.
I forced air into my lungs, forced my body to move, forced myself to smooth my expression when my hands wanted to shake the walls down. Sugar grabbed my wrist, grounding me.
“They’ll use the council meeting,” she murmured. “The Queen’s schemes go deeper than we thought. This… this was their move.”
My throat burned. My wolf pressed at the edges of my skin, claws raking, demanding violence. She wanted blood. She wanted Gregor. She wanted to tear apart anyone who dared touch what was ours.
“They call him traitor,” Sugar whispered, and my vision snapped sharp again. “But the real traitors are walking free. They’ll bait the maids, the servants—but they’ll bait us too. Be careful. Please.”
I didn’t answer.
Because careful wasn’t in me anymore.
The council chamber was already thick with whispers when I stormed in.
Dozens of heads turned—Lords, Alphas, courtiers—all draped in silks and smugness. The Queen sat poised at the center, smile painted sweet as poison. The King sat at her side, weary, silent.
And at the far end—Gregor.
My heart nearly broke at the sight.
He was shackled in chains that gleamed silver, his body bloodied, his once-crisp shirt torn and stained. His head was bowed, but even weakened, even bruised and poisoned, he radiated power. His presence filled the chamber, a storm waiting to crack.
But the sight of him—wounded, caged—was a knife to my ribs.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run to him, break the chains, claw through the Black Fang that flanked him. My wolf howled, pressing against my skin until my nails dug crescents into my palms.
The Queen’s voice sliced through the chamber.
“Alpha Gregor of the North,” she purred, every syllable dripping with satisfaction, “stands accused of conspiring with enemies of the crown. This morning, he was apprehended by the Black Fang under royal warrant.”
Murmurs rippled. Gasps.
She looked at me then, her gaze sharp as daggers, as though daring me to speak.
I stood straighter. Met her eyes. Let her see that she hadn’t broken me.
And then I looked at Gregor.
His gaze finally lifted, locking with mine across the chamber.
Gods. That look.
Bloodied, bruised, chained—and yet his eyes burned with the same fire that had pinned me to the bed last night. The same fire that had almost marked me. The same fire that promised: I’ll fight. I’ll survive. For you.
The council droned on, accusations piling, names thrown, schemes spun like webs. But I heard little.
Because all I could think was: I had to get him out.
The bait was set. The traitor maids would be revealed in the chaos. But chaos could go both ways.
And if I didn’t move carefully, the Queen wouldn’t just destroy Gregor. She’d destroy me too.
Still—my wolf whispered, hungry, certain—better destroyed together than surviving apart.
The council began calling witnesses. The maids entered, eyes downcast, trembling—but too rehearsed, too well-fed with lies. I remembered Leon’s words, the plan to bait them, to smoke out their treachery.
And suddenly, the weight of it all hit me.
This wasn’t just about catching traitors. This was about survival. This was about war.
If Gregor was condemned here, today, the North would fracture. Our allies would splinter. The Queen’s grip would tighten until none of us could breathe.
I couldn’t let that happen.
When my name was called, I stepped forward, heart pounding, fury simmering beneath my skin.
Every gaze in the chamber turned to me. Every whisper hushed.
I lifted my chin, let them see my fire, my wolf’s glow in my eyes.
And though my heart screamed for Gregor, my lips curved into a razor smile.
Because if the Queen wanted war, I’d give her one.
And the first battle would be here, in this chamber.