Chapter 101

Grayson’s POV

I knew she wouldn't listen. Ava was the most stubborn person I'd ever met. When she latched onto an idea, nothing else in the world seemed to matter. She'd chase it with the tenacity of a wolf on a hunt, determined and unyielding. Her passion was admirable, but it also made her reckless.

I didn't want to extinguish the spark in her eyes when she spoke about her theories. She believed in her work, and I admired that. But this time, she was wrong.

Her theory initially sounded solid. The attacks targeting the founding families did seem to follow a pattern. She'd pieced together the evidence and concluded that the next target would be the reclusive Alpha who had kept himself and his pack hidden for decades. It made sense on paper, but there was one glaring problem—he was already dead.

His death wasn't public knowledge. His isolation ensured that only a few people outside his pack knew. I'd received confirmation weeks ago through discreet channels. There was no reason for the attacker to target someone who was no longer alive or a pack that had already lost its leader.

The truth undermined Ava's theory, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her. Part of me didn't want to dampen her excitement, but a larger part knew it would only make her more determined to act alone. And that was the last thing I needed.

Instead of stopping her, I told her I'd warn the recluse's pack. That seemed to pacify her for the moment, but three days later, Rickon called with unsettling news.

"Grayson," he said, his voice unusually serious, "Ava and Isabella are planning something. I believe they're going to try to break into the recluse's fortress."

And that's how I found myself in a car with Rickon, watching Ava, Isabella, and Eliza attempting to do exactly that.

"I bet you $10,000 Ava can't pick the lock," Rickon said, crunching loudly on a bag of chips.

I glared at him, barely containing my irritation. "Am I a teenager? I don't even know why you're here. And stop chewing so loudly—it's grating on my nerves."

Rickon grinned, enjoying himself. "Oh, come on, Alpha King Grayson," he said, emphasizing my title mockingly. "My intel brought you here, so the least you can do is make this stakeout more interesting. Take the bet."

"This isn't a stakeout," I snapped. "And no, I'm not making the bet."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd lose. Ava wouldn't know how to pick a lock. Not with her upbringing."

Rickon laughed, the sound testing my already thin patience. "You're no fun, you know that? All this power, all this brooding—it's a wonder you haven't driven yourself mad."

I ignored him and focused on Ava and her group. They were huddled by the gate, whispering. A moment later, Eliza took over from Ava, and within seconds, they were inside.

I sighed. "Looks like I was right," I muttered.

Rickon, still crunching his chips, leaned back. "So, any plans on passing your 'I'm always angry' gene to some poor kid anytime soon?"

I turned sharply, my neck cracking. He was grinning, clearly delighted at having rattled me.

"Stop it," I said flatly. "I'm not in the mood for your nonsense."

Before I could speak further, something caught my attention. A prickle ran down my spine; my instincts kicked in.

"What is it?" Rickon asked, sitting up straighter.

I didn't answer immediately, my eyes fixed on the fortress where Ava and the others had entered. Something wasn't right.

"Grayson?" Rickon pressed.

"We need to get them out of there," I said, already exiting the car.

Rickon scrambled out after me. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice tight. "But something's off. We need to move—now."

At that moment, a scream pierced the air, sharp and chilling. My heart clenched. Before I could react, Rickon shifted into his wolf form and took off toward the fortress.

I sighed, following him at a brisk pace. I didn't shift yet—there was no need until I assessed the situation—but my wolf was clawing at the edges of my mind, ready to take over.

As we approached the fortress, low growls reached my ears. My instincts flared, and I shifted without a second thought, my wolf surging forward.

Wolves emerged from the shadows, their eyes gleaming with hostility. Rickon's wolf was already attacking them, a blur of fur and teeth. I didn't hesitate, joining the fight.

The air filled with snarls and the clash of bodies. I tore through the attackers, my wolf reveling in the violence. But even as I fought, my focus was elsewhere—on Ava.

Then I saw her.

She was standing a few feet away, frozen in shock as three wolves closed in. My heart dropped, and I lunged, intercepting the wolves before they could reach her. My claws tore through one; I let out a feral growl, baring my teeth as the others and I barked at her, hearing her scream my name.

I redirected my attack to the wolves, tearing into them with savage precision. More kept coming, emerging from the shadows, but I didn't let up. Ava had shifted.

The air was filled with the sounds of battle, and my every sense was on high alert. I didn't have time for doubt. I ripped through another attacker, sinking my fangs into its flank. I could hear Rickon fighting nearby, his snarls and growls blending into the cacophony, but my mind was on Ava.

I didn't know if she'd escaped, and that terrified me more than the wolves. Then, I felt a ripple, a shift—subtle at first, like an echo in my psyche, a sensation so foreign it almost made me falter. My wolf stilled, its instincts sharpening. Something had changed. Something big.

And then I felt her. Not just Ava, but her wolf. The sensation hit me like a thunderclap, a surge of energy crashing into my mind. It was wild, raw, and untamed; her wolf's presence brushed against my consciousness.

Her voice followed, a whisper in my mind that sent my heart racing. I told her to take Isabella and Rickon; I'd meet them at my mansion. She had shifted. She had finally shifted.

I didn't have time to process it, to marvel at the impossibility. Ava's wolf was awake, alive, and here. Another wolf lunged at me, and I spun, my claws slashing across its throat. The scent of blood thickened the air as it collapsed. But as I turned to face the next attacker, something else happened—something inexplicable.

My wolf howled. It wasn't a battle cry or a warning. It was a sound of pain, of anguish, reverberating through me. And then, like a candle snuffed out, something inside me shifted again.

It felt wrong. So wrong.

Panic clawed at the edges of my mind as I realized what was happening. My wolf, the powerful presence that had been my partner in every fight, felt distant—like it was slipping away. The connection was flickering, fraying. My body felt heavier, slower, as though my strength was being drained.

And then, it was gone.

I was forced into my human form, in the middle of the battle. I staggered, vulnerable and exposed. My claws were gone, my senses dulled. My wolf had retreated, leaving me defenseless.

"What the hell—?" I gasped, but there was no time. The wolves seized the opportunity, their growls growing louder as they circled, then attacked.

The final portion of the text was extremely fragmented and difficult to understand. I have done my best to reconstruct it, but some sections remain unclear due to missing words and sentences. A careful rereading and possible correction of the original text is strongly suggested for a more accurate final result.