Chapter 74 75
Silence fell between us — warm, electric, filled with too many unsaid things. The fire crackled softly, casting gold light over his face, over my bandaged arm, over the tension that hung between us like lightning about to strike.
He reached up, brushing a wet strand of hair from my cheek. “Next time,” he murmured, “when I say jump, maybe trust me a little sooner.”
I smirked. “Next time, maybe give me a parachute.”
Barbie groaned, flopping dramatically on a nearby rock. “Oh, for the love of—will you two just kiss already? My wings are drying slower from secondhand tension.”
“Barbie!” I hissed.
Gregor laughed under his breath. “You heard the fairy.”
I shot him a glare. “You’re bleeding and flirting. That’s multitasking I don’t approve of.”
“Then stop looking at my mouth.”
“I—” My brain short-circuited. “I wasn’t!”
He leaned closer, that familiar scent — rain, forest, wolf — wrapping around me like a trap. “Liar.”
Before I could come up with a snarky comeback, Barbie squealed, “Ugh! I’m leaving! Enjoy your hormones!” and zipped out of the cave muttering about bugs and bad decisions.
Gregor grinned, eyes glinting in the firelight. “Finally.”
I swallowed. “Finally what?”
He tilted his head. “Privacy.”
And that was it. One heartbeat later, he kissed me — slower this time, softer, like he wanted to memorize every second before the war started.
And I let him.
Because for once, in this insane, blood-soaked, drone-infested nightmare — this felt like peace.
Gregor POV
Dawn crept through the mist, silver and slow, the kind that made even scars look sacred.
The ravine was quiet for once — no Black Fang howls, no ASA drones humming above — just the echo of the river and the faint, steady rhythm of her breathing beside me.
Marigold.
She sat near the mouth of the cave, wringing water from her hair and muttering something about “river shampoo being nature’s betrayal.”
Even soaking wet, bruised, and half-covered in dirt, she was still the most dangerously alive thing I’d ever seen. Her wolf shimmered beneath her skin like lightning trapped in a bottle — restless, wild, and impossibly beautiful.
“Stop staring,” she said without looking at me.
“Not staring,” I lied smoothly, “just making sure you didn’t swallow another fish by accident.”
Her head whipped toward me. “That happened once!”
I smirked, leaning back on my elbows. “Once too many.”
She glared but the corner of her mouth betrayed her — that twitch that always ruined her attempt at being furious.
The fire we’d managed to build cracked weakly, throwing a glow across her face, softening the bruises and wildness into something almost unbearable to look at.
“You found her,” I said quietly. “The ancient Fae.”
Marigold nodded. “Barbie,” she muttered, tone somewhere between affection and exasperation. “The most ancient supernatural being on the planet, apparently. And also, the whiniest.”
A soft chuckle escaped me. “She’s real. You have no idea how long I searched for her.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome,” she shot back. “You could’ve at least warned me that the forest’s guardian looked like she came straight out of a glitter apocalypse.”
Her sarcasm cracked the tension between us, and for a moment, I forgot the storm, the chase, the blood.
But the truth hung heavy in the air.
Her words struck deep — because I knew what that meant.
She was that dark warrior.
And Barbie, the last of her kind.
Together, they were the key to ending this endless war — but also the target of every creature cursed enough to crave freedom.
“Gregor,” she whispered, “they’ll come after us harder now. ASA, the Queen’s soldiers, Black Fang — even Wolfgang’s renegades. I don’t even know anymore.”
“I know.” My voice came out rougher than I intended. “That’s why I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”
Her eyes widened — not in fear, but something far more dangerous. “You say that like you still think you can stop me.”
“I know I can’t,” I admitted, stepping closer, “but I’m sure as hell going to try.”
The space between us vanished — one heartbeat, two — and suddenly her scent was everywhere: rain, smoke, and something wild that made my pulse trip over itself.
She tilted her head up, defiant as always. “You’re bleeding again,” she said.
“So are you.”
She gave a soft laugh. “We’re a mess.”
“The kind I’d choose again,” I murmured.
The cave seemed to shrink, every drop of water echoing around us like the world holding its breath.
My hand brushed her jaw — slow, reverent — tracing the line where the firelight met her skin. Her breath caught, eyes flickering between my mouth and my eyes.
“Gregor…” she whispered, warning and wanting tangled together.
“I thought I lost you,” I said, voice barely audible. “And I don’t think I could survive that again.”
She opened her mouth — maybe to make a joke, maybe to deflect — but I didn’t let her.
My lips found hers, and for a heartbeat, the entire forest seemed to still.
The kiss wasn’t rushed — it was desperate in silence, slow in fury. Her hands gripped my jacket, mine cupped her face as if the world might try to take her away again if I loosened my hold even slightly.
It wasn’t about hunger; it was about relief. About two souls that had spent too long running finally finding breath again.
When we broke apart, she was smiling — that rare, real smile that could’ve started wars.
“Well,” she murmured, eyes gleaming, “took you long enough.”
“Was waiting for you to stop nearly dying every five minutes.”
She punched my shoulder, lightly this time. “Still bossy.”
“Still impossible.”
The fire crackled, and for one fragile moment, we let the world outside the cave disappear.
Tomorrow, they’d have to face the Queen’s cursed army, ASA’s machines, and gods knew what else.
But tonight, soaked, bruised, and safe in the eye of the storm — there was only this.
Her heartbeat against mine.
And the quiet, dangerous promise that no curse, no army, and no prophecy would ever tear them apart again.