Chapter 137: Grayson's POV

So many questions remained. They knew a great deal—enough to shatter my understanding of everything. They surely knew who was responsible for the Alpha's death, but Alaric had insisted that was a discovery I had to make alone.

After those words, everything blurred. I couldn't tell if it was the weight of his statement, or some deliberate effect. My mind fogged, and the next thing I knew, I was being guided outside. The world spun, the ground felt unsteady, and my senses failed me. I didn't know if it was real or a consequence of the overwhelming information.

I struggled to focus. Alaric's voice echoed faintly, my only grounding. He'd mentioned Rickon—something I didn't fully grasp, but instinctively trusted. His final words rang out clearly: "We will meet again soon, Grayson Blackwood."

Then, I felt as if I were being dragged through a dark tunnel. Suddenly, cold air hit my skin. I blinked, stumbled, and found myself back outside, where Alaric had initially found me. Distant lights cast a surreal glow. Rickon lay beside me, unconscious.

He groaned and stirred, his hand pressing against his head. "What the hell happened?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Approaching footsteps shattered the silence. My wolf tensed, preparing for attack. Rickon groaned again, trying to sit up. "Where is everyone? What happened to Alaric? Why are we here?" His questions poured out, but I had no answers.

The footsteps grew louder. Figures in tactical gear approached with the organized efficiency of a well-trained rescue team. They were here for us.

Rickon's eyes narrowed. "Who are they?" he whispered.

"They're here to get us out of here," I said, my voice lacking conviction.

A dark-haired man with a stern expression stepped forward. "Mr. Blackwood, I presume?" His voice was surprisingly formal.

I nodded, still dazed, but striving for control. They didn't know the full extent of who I was, but their respect suggested they had received at least some briefing.

"We understand you and your companion require immediate medical attention," the man stated. "We have a vehicle ready to take you home."

Rickon looked at me, confused and frustrated. "Wait, home? What happened to Alaric? Where did he go?"

I remained silent. I didn't have answers, and frankly, I wasn't ready to discuss it. I had things to do, Italy being my top priority.

The rescue team, clearly concerned but aware this wasn't a typical rescue, exchanged glances. They were simply doing their job. They moved to help Rickon, but I stayed seated.

The dark-haired rescuer addressed me again. "Mr. Blackwood, you need to come with us now. It's best you're transported immediately."

His words jolted me, but didn't change my resolve. I wasn't ready to go home, not with Ava, not with everything unresolved.

"I'm not going back," I stated firmly.

The rescuer raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Blackwood, do you understand? We have everything arranged. You'll be safe at home."

"No," I repeated, more sharply. "I'm not going back yet. I have something to finish."

Rickon stared, bewildered. "What the hell are you talking about? You're injured. You need help! I need a bed and a shower!"

My body felt heavy. Ava, my family's legacy, Alaric's revelations—I couldn't ignore them. I needed to deal with Ricardo's pack. My original plan remained in place.

Italy was waiting. I wouldn't delay any longer.

"I'm still going to Italy," I said. The words sounded strange, even to me, but they were true.

The rescuer looked concerned, but there was little he could do. "Sir, that's not a good idea. You're in no condition—"

"I'm going," I interrupted, glaring at him.

There was no arguing. They nodded, reluctantly, and began making transport arrangements. I heard engines starting in the distance.

Rickon, though confused and angry, couldn't argue. "I don't know what you're planning, but this is insane. You're in no state to face a pack."

I couldn't explain; I didn't want to. He wasn't seeing things as I was. Italy was all that mattered.

Everything else would wait.

"Are you coming with me or not?"

Rickon sighed. "I guess I am. Do you have a plan?"

"We'll figure it out when we get there."

My confidence was false. Before we could speak further, a man returned. His face was expressionless, his tone efficient.

"We're ready to depart, Mr. Blackwood."

I nodded, unable to speak, and walked towards the waiting cars. Rickon followed, his movements slow. I felt his questioning gaze, but avoided his eyes.

The sleek, dark cars loomed. It wasn't the dangers of Italy that filled my mind, but her.

Ava.

Even as I climbed into the car, one thought burned brighter than all others: Ava Pierce wasn't meant for me.

It was the truth I'd been avoiding, buried beneath chaos and responsibility. But it had always been there.

I stared out the window as the car pulled away. The night stretched ahead, endless, but my mind was fixed.

I couldn't prolong it. I would have to return. And when I did… it would mark the end of us. Not because I wanted it, but because we were never meant to be.