Chapter 6 6
Marigold POV
Alpha Gregor wasn’t kidding when he said “let’s run for our lives.” His voice had that lethal edge—like the kind that said if we stay, we die… or worse.
I’d caught most of his earlier conversation with that guy Zach—because hello, werewolf hearing is basically nature’s gift for eavesdropping—and what I heard made my stomach do backflips. The part about me awakening some “unheard-of-for-centuries warrior wolf” was enough to make me choke on my own spit. But then he dropped the Dark Wolf thing? Yeah, no. I’m not even sure what that means, but judging by Gregor’s pacing, it’s not a title people just hand out like candy.
And now apparently, the most feared Alpha in America was… my babysitter?
Great. Absolutely fantastic.
Except one problem—
I’m not Margaux.
I’m just… me. Marigold. Low wolf. Nobody special. With trust issues.
Which was absurd. I mean, me? I wasn’t special. I was barely above Omega rank in pack politics, the “don’t look at me or I’ll drop the tray” type. But apparently my wolf had other plans.
And not to mention they thought I was Margaux.
Also, the “ceremony footage” Zach had hacked into revealed I had awakened a warrior wolf. Not just any warrior wolf—one that hadn’t been seen in centuries. Female. Deadly. The kind that could chew through history books and still ask for dessert. And Alpha Gregor? Well, Gregor was the last of that breed. The Dark Wolf.
So now I was… what? The new Dark Wolf’s inconvenient, younger sister? His accidental competition? His ticket to not getting executed by the King? The jury was still out.
Alpha Gregor paced like a storm cloud about to go feral, his boots thudding against the wooden floor, every muscle wired tight. I swear if he clenched his jaw any harder, we’d have diamond dust on the rug.
My thoughts snapped back to the present when Gregor’s head jerked toward the open air, nostrils flaring. His shoulders stiffened, and a growl rumbled low in his chest—deep, deadly, and enough to make my wolf freeze.
“They’ve found us, we leave. Now,” he barked.
Before I could even sass him back with a “Oh sure, let me just pack my toothbrush”, the sound hit me. A faint crunch outside the woodland, a rustle in the treeline.
Black Fang scouts.
I knew that name. Everyone did. They were the King’s shadow unit—assassins and hunters rolled into one, the kind who didn’t just kill you, they made sure your ghost filed a missing persons report.
Alpha Gregor must have smelled them too because his head snapped toward the door. His eyes flashed—deep, dangerous, gold ringed in black.
“Shift,” he ordered.
I hesitated. “I’m not—”
“Now, Marigold,” he growled, low and sharp, a sound that made the hairs on my neck salute.
And then it happened.
He shifted.
One moment, massive, terrifying Alpha in leather jacket. The next—oh hell—the biggest wolf I had ever seen in my life. Midnight fur so dark it seemed to drink in the light, with streaks of shadow moving under his pelt like living smoke. Eyes like molten gold, radiating an authority that could crush you flat just by looking. His paws were the size of dinner plates, his fangs could probably snap through steel, and his sheer presence made the entire air feel heavier.
I’d heard stories about the Dark Wolf, but stories were polite. This was holy crap, is that a god? territory.
“Fine,” I muttered, because my pride wouldn’t let me just stand there drooling. With a breath, I let the change take me. Bones shifted, muscles rippled, fur spread over my skin. My wolf form emerged—dark as his, sleek, with eyes that gleamed silver in the light.
And yes… next to him, I looked like a pint-sized, angry plush toy.
“Oh great,” I thought bitterly as I stood there. “It’s Beauty and the Fun-Sized Beast.”
He gave me a glance that said, Move. And we did—bursting from the villa just as the first Black Fang scouts breached the tree line.
The forest blurred around us, paws pounding the earth, my breath matching his in rhythm. The cold wind whipped my fur, and the coppery scent of danger rode the air. Gregor’s massive frame cut a path ahead, smashing through undergrowth like it was tissue paper, while I darted to his flank, smaller, faster, twisting around roots and leaping over rocks.
The shouts of the scouts grew louder behind us. Arrows whistled past, thunking into trees. My ears twitched back in instinct, my heart hammering—half from the adrenaline, half from the fact that running next to this wolf felt… electric.
He didn’t look back. Not once. Just trusted I was there, keeping up. Which, okay, was slightly flattering for someone who just found out she’s apparently a walking political grenade.
We hit the riverbank and alpha Gregor didn’t slow. He launched across in a massive leap, landing like a thunderclap. I followed—less thunderclap, more wet sploosh—but I made it.
And for a brief, insane moment, with the cold water clinging to my fur and the enemy fading behind us, I thought:
Well… maybe having the Dark Wolf as a babysitter isn’t the worst thing in the world.
But…
Gunmetal shadows darted between the trees on both sides, fast as phantoms. The scouts weren’t just chasing—they were flanking us.
Gregor’s jaw flexed, eyes burning amber. “If they box us in, we’re dead.”
A few hours later. We lost them. Because of course, Alpha Gregor was that cool…
Whatever…
Now, breathing like a mad dog, I looked at the cabin.
It screamed of cobwebs and spiders. I hate it already but do I have a choice?
No.
It looked like it had been abandoned since the last century—wood creaked under every step, the air smelled faintly of dust and pine, and there was one lonely chair in the corner like it had been waiting decades for a butt to sit on it. Alpha Gregor’s wolf padded in first, massive black fur brushing the low ceiling beams like he owned the place. He turned his head to me and growled—well, not in a “I’ll eat you” way, more in a “shift back right now” way.
Yeah, no.
“I’m not shifting,” I told him flatly, tail flicking. “Unless you can magically summon clothes out of thin air. Or maybe you’re hiding a laundromat behind those scary shoulders.”
He bared his teeth. Not at me—okay, maybe a little at me—but mostly in that irritated Alpha way that said do what I say or I will make you. Which, by the way, is infuriating.
“Backpack,” he rumbled.
“What about it?” I cocked my head.
“They have it,” he said.
And that’s when it hit me—my backpack, with my spare clothes, my stash of jerky, my emergency toothbrush—was in enemy hands. Which meant they were now in possession of a pair of neon pink pajama pants with cartoon ducks on them. The ultimate humiliation.
I tried to ignore the little pulse of panic in my chest, so I defaulted to my favorite coping mechanism: sass. “Well, congratulations to them. Now the Black Fang assassins can lounge around in style.”
His wolf form stepped closer, towering over me, shadows curling around him like he was made for moonlight and fear. And… okay, fine, it worked. My own wolf instincts kicked in before my brain could sass again. “SHIFT NOW!”
My bones cracked, fur dissolved, and suddenly I was very human. And very naked.
“Hey!”
The second I realized it, I screamed—mostly out of indignation, but also because right there, standing in his own human form, was Alpha Gregor in all his… glory.
And dear moon goddess… the man was huge. I mean—yes, obviously he was huge in the whole “Alpha muscles and terrifying warrior” sense, but also… yeah. There. Like really, really there.
I whipped around so fast I nearly dislocated something. “Oh my god, put it away! Or a blanket! Or a tree branch—something!”