Chapter 62 63
Gregor’s POV
The world snapped black the second the mist swallowed me.
One moment, I was in the council chamber—chains cutting into my wrists, the scent of wolfbane burning my lungs, my wolf howling in my skull as Marigold’s eyes locked on mine. One moment, I was lunging at the guards, at the Queen’s smug face, my claws catching glimpses of velvet robes and the taste of blood.
And then—
Nothing.
Cold. Wet. Darkness.
The mist dragged me like a tide, swallowing my strength, my rage, even my breath. My body slammed onto hard stone, the impact jarring the chains loose from my wrists but leaving my muscles trembling from poison. For a moment, I stayed there—on my knees, palms braced against the slick floor—breathing like a wounded beast.
Then the memories hit.
The video. The council’s roar. The Queen’s smirk.
Marigold’s face—her lips trembling but her eyes defiant.
They had played that cursed recording, turned what was ours into something filthy. They’d called me traitor. Rapist. Savage. Everything I swore I’d never be.
And it had worked.
The Queen’s plan. Her poison. Her web.
It was all to finish me. To erase me.
To take me from Marigold before we could rise.
A snarl ripped from my throat, echoing off unseen walls. My claws tore into the stone beneath me, sparks of pain flashing up my arms. Wolfbane still burned through my veins, dulling my senses. My wolf paced inside my chest, furious and caged.
We should have killed her.
We will kill her.
I slammed my head back against the stone, trying to focus. Not yet.
Somewhere above me, faintly, I heard water dripping. The air reeked of damp moss and iron. It was a dungeon, but not the castle’s. No torches, no guards, only the residue of magic clinging to the mist. Whoever had dragged me here hadn’t done it by accident.
I pushed to my feet, swaying. “Marigold…” The name was a rasp on my tongue. The thought of her shifting into her wolf—throwing herself at the council to defend me—made my stomach twist.
If they touched her—
If they even tried—
A sudden snap of energy rippled across the chamber, and a shadow peeled itself from the darkness.
“Alpha Gregor.”
The voice was low, steady, familiar.
I stiffened. “Xander?”
From the mist stepped Beta Xander, his silver eyes glinting beneath his hood. Behind him, six of his team emerged—wolves and warriors I’d handpicked for missions that never made the council records. Their boots made no sound on the stone, and their weapons glinted faintly—coated not with wolfbane, but anti-magic runes.
Relief and suspicion warred inside me. “You—” My voice cracked from exhaustion. “You pulled me out?”
He nodded once. “We’ve been shadowing you for days. We knew the Queen’s trap was tightening. When the council dragged you in this morning, we stayed close. When she unleashed the mist to move you to the execution vault beneath the castle, we intercepted.”
Execution vault.
So that was it.
I laughed, a raw, broken sound. “She wanted me dead before the sun hit the horizon.”
Xander’s jaw clenched. “She still does.”
I swayed again, catching myself against the wall. My vision swam. “Marigold—”
“She’s alive.” Xander’s eyes softened briefly. “Still at the castle. Unharmed. But the Queen has her under a leash you can’t see. If you reveal her, you’ll sign her death warrant.”
I closed my eyes, inhaling through my teeth. The Queen’s voice echoed in my mind: Do not reveal yourself. Do not talk at all. The threat wasn’t just real; it was already moving.
I opened my eyes, locking on Xander. “Get me out of here. Get me to her.”
He shook his head. “You can’t go back now. They’ve put your face on every screen in the kingdom. You’re branded a traitor and a monster. Every wolf who wants a favor from the crown is hunting you already.”
“I don’t care—”
“You should.” His tone sharpened. “If you die now, she dies with you. You understand that?”
Silence. My hands curled into fists.
Xander stepped closer, lowering his voice. “We have a safehouse in the northern cliffs. We move now, you live to clear your name. You live to take her back.”
I looked at the men behind him. My men. Blood still clung to their armor from the fight at the council—wolves who’d thrown themselves into a trap for me. Their faces were grim but steady. They were waiting for my order.
I thought of Marigold’s eyes as the chamber dissolved into mist. Of her voice when she whispered my name the night before. Of the mark I’d nearly left on her neck.
They’d call me monster.
They’d call me rapist.
They’d call me traitor.
Fine.
Let them.
But I’d survive. I’d clear my name. And I’d burn the Queen’s throne to ash before I let her touch Marigold again.
I straightened slowly, forcing my body upright, my voice steady. “Take me to the cliffs. And send word to the few allies we still have.”
Xander gave a curt nod. “Already in motion.”
His men moved around me like a shadowed guard, forming a ring as he pressed a rune stone to the floor. Light flared—blue, sharp, and cold—and the dungeon walls folded away, revealing a tunnel carved through solid rock. The air smelled of pine and snow now.
As we moved, I cast one last glance back at the place where the mist had dumped me. The stone still bore the marks of my claws, fresh blood glistening where I’d torn myself free.
The Queen thought she’d finished me.
She hadn’t even begun.
I followed Xander into the tunnel, my wolf stirring with grim anticipation.
This wasn’t the end.
It was the beginning of the hunt.