Chapter 105

Ava's POV

The irony wasn't lost on me, though the exact saying escaped me. All I could think was how cruel it was—that I'd finally gotten my wolf, only for Grayson to lose his. The universe had a twisted sense of humor, and this cut deeper than I ever imagined.

Weeks had passed since the attack. Life had resumed a semblance of normalcy, or as close to normal as things got around here. The truth about the recluse Alpha's death had emerged, but it only amplified the unsettling feeling that clung to me like a shadow. Whoever orchestrated the attack hadn't sent their wolves to kill the Alpha; that much was clear. It was a distraction, part of a larger plan I couldn't decipher. It was as if they knew we'd be there and simply sent wolves to kill us. But since then? Nothing but silence. Absolute, deafening stillness.

The only noticeable difference in the pack was Grayson. Or rather, what he was hiding beneath his stoic mask. He'd lost his wolf—a secret no one else could ever know. And if we couldn't find a way to restore him, it would be a secret I'd take to my grave.

He carried himself as always, with that unshakeable presence that made people straighten their backs. But I saw through the façade. A heaviness clouded his gaze, a weight absent before. The void he carried must have been unbearable, yet he refused to show it.

Maria had done all she could, casting a protection spell to keep him safe, but her attempts to restore his wolf had failed.

"He's strong. He'll get through this, just like you did."

The words echoed in my mind, still surprising me after all these weeks. It was strange, hearing her in my head after all these years. But I couldn't fully embrace the connection—not when guilt gnawed at me. Grayson had sacrificed so much for me, and now he was suffering.

I stood at the edge of the training grounds, watching him from afar as he addressed the warriors. His voice held an authority that demanded respect, and I felt a pang of admiration. Even now, he was a force to be reckoned with.

"He's strong," my wolf murmured.

"I know he is," I whispered. "I just…"

My words trailed off as I watched him dismiss the warriors. He turned, as if drawn by an invisible force, and our eyes met. For a moment, the world vanished.

I offered a small smile, unsure what else to do. He returned it, faint, but it was something. Before I could second-guess myself, my feet carried me toward him.

His eyes never left mine as I approached, and when I was close enough, I hesitated. "Hi," I said, my voice softer than intended.

Grayson's response surprised me. He pulled me gently into his arms and kissed me tenderly. The gesture caught me off guard, but I melted into it, feeling a warmth I hadn't felt in weeks.

When he pulled back, a genuine smile touched his lips. "Hi," he said, his voice low and rich, sending a shiver down my spine.

I smiled again, my thoughts racing. "Did they find anything yet?" I asked, shifting my focus.

He shook his head, a shadow passing over his face. "No," he said simply.

I sighed, the weight of everything pressing down on me. "It's too quiet," I murmured. "Like the calm before a storm. I can't shake this feeling—like someone's watching us."

I was about to say more when Grayson raised a hand, stopping me. "Come with me," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Before I could ask, he took my hand and led me toward the far corner of the estate. His grip was firm but gentle, and the warmth of his hand was reassuring.

We walked in silence, through the trees and past the main house, until we reached a secluded area I'd never seen before. When we stopped, I gasped.

The space before me was transformed. Twinkling fairy lights hung from the trees, casting a soft, golden glow. A small table sat in the center, draped in a pristine white cloth and surrounded by wildflowers. Candles flickered gently, their light dancing across the crystal glasses and silverware.

I turned to Grayson, astonished. "What is this?"

"A dinner," he said simply, his expression unreadable.

"Why?" I asked, shaking my head. "Why are you doing this? This isn't the right time. We have so much to worry about—"

"No," he said firmly, cutting me off. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. "We always have something to worry about, Ava. There's always another battle, another threat. But tonight… tonight, I just want to spend time with you. Just you."

His words left me speechless, but before I could respond, he reached for my hand. "Look," he said, his voice softer.

I followed his gaze to his hand and watched as his claws extended. I gasped, a mix of shock and hope surging through me.

Before I could speak, he said, "He's not fully back. But I can feel him again. It's faint, like a flicker, but it's there. That means he's not gone forever." His voice was steady, but determined. "Whatever's happening, whatever's affecting our connection, I'll find it. I'll fix it."

His eyes met mine, and his expression softened. "But tonight… I just want to be with you. No problems, no distractions. Just us."

I swallowed hard, my emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Slowly, I nodded. "Okay," I said, my voice barely audible.

He led me to the table, pulling out a chair for me. The evening unfolded like a dream, every detail meticulously planned. The food was delicious, but I hardly tasted it, too caught up in the way Grayson looked at me.

As the night went on, the tension lifted, replaced by something warmer, deeper. Grayson's walls seemed to crumble just for me.

"Thank you," I said softly, breaking the silence.

"For what?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

"For this," I said, gesturing to the setting. "For reminding me that even in chaos, there's still room for… this."

His expression softened, and he took my hand. "You don't have to thank me, Ava," he said, his voice low. "You've been there for me through everything. This is the least I can do."

The way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered, sent warmth through me, chasing away the shadows. His gaze held a quiet intensity, unspoken promises and unshaken resolve. For a man who'd always been a fortress—stoic, unyielding, untouchable—this vulnerable side was startling. And yet, it was the part I cherished most.

The candlelight danced in his eyes. For the first time in weeks, I felt peace. Fragile, fleeting, but it was there. And as the night stretched on, I allowed myself to hope—for him, for us, for a future not defined by loss and pain.

Maybe a future like the one I'd imagined. Not one free of responsibility—he'd never lose the throne—but perhaps a future with more than just survival. Something meaningful, something lasting.

The thought was barely formed when his voice broke through my reverie. "I heard everything you said."

I blinked. "What?"

"When I was unconscious," he clarified, "I heard everything you said. About wanting a different kind of life."

Heat rushed to my face.

"I didn't mean—"

"You did," he interrupted, his voice soft but firm. "And it's okay. You don't have to explain. I understand."

A lump formed in my throat. "Grayson, I wasn't saying I wanted you to give up everything. I know how much being king means to you. It's who you are."

He nodded, his thumb brushing my hand. "It is. And I wouldn't change that. But I need you to know something."

I held my breath. Then his words hit me.

"I don't ever want to have children."