Chapter 165

Grayson’s POV

I wanted to be mad at Liam, especially after I asked, "How long?" and he replied, "Three months." That was a month longer than Ava and I had spent in that cursed world.

At first, his words burned me like fuel on a raging fire, but then something unexpected happened. I realized I didn't want to feel that way anymore. I didn't want to replay past issues, clinging to the anger that clawed at me like a beast. I didn't want to keep picking fights, whether with Luther, Liam, or anyone else.

Enough already weighed me down—an entire realm to govern as Alpha King, the curse in my bloodline that needed breaking, and whoever had gone quiet after the killing spree. And maybe, just maybe, it was good that my wolf wasn't here to growl at my sudden desire for peace.

Because that's all I wanted: peace. And Ava… she brought it. When she was near, the weight on my chest lightened. The darkness felt less suffocating. She made me feel lighter, and for that, I was willing to try—to focus on something resembling normalcy, even if it felt foreign.

That's why I showed up at the hospital. Not just to check on her after her meeting with her superior—I'd already planned my response if it didn't go well. If he fired her, I would use every resource to shut the hospital down. I wouldn't care about collateral damage. The moment I saw a frown on her face, I would act.

But instead of charging in, I remembered Isabella's annoying voice echoing in my head—she always seemed to know what I needed to hear: "Just show up."

So, I left everything behind. To Liam's credit, he'd kept things in order, giving me time to come here.

When Ava met me outside, her grin made the world stop. It was the kind of smile that made everything worthwhile. I said the first thing that came to mind: "I'm taking you to lunch."

The remodeled restaurant wasn't my first choice, but it felt appropriate. Just because I was trying to be nice didn't mean people didn't need occasional reminders of consequences.

Ava's soft laughter pulled me from my thoughts as she looked up at the building.

"My mother is going to be so pissed," she giggled.

I extended my hand without speaking. That was why I'd bought the restaurant.

She took my hand, her smaller fingers fitting perfectly in mine, and I led her inside.

Andrew Waters stood by the entrance, his tie absent. The sight brought a faint smile to my lips. His expression faltered when his eyes landed on me. He swallowed hard and approached cautiously.

"Mr. Blackwood," he stammered, his voice betraying his nerves. "I didn't realize you'd be coming in today." His gaze flickered nervously between Ava and me.

I ignored him, scanning the restaurant. The once overly extravagant decor had been replaced with something simpler, more refined. The false pretense was gone, replaced by honest elegance.

"What do you think of it?" I asked Ava, my attention still on Andrew.

She hesitated, sensing the tension. "I love it. It's really beautiful."

Andrew audibly exhaled, relief washing over his face. "I'll take you to your table."

He led us through the restaurant but paused. "I'm sorry, Mr. Blackwood, but all the VIP tables are currently taken—"

I opened my mouth to have those tables cleared, but Ava's soft voice cut me off.

"It's fine," she said, surprising us both. "I never liked those tables anyway. They're always in positions where everyone can see you. It feels like being under a microscope." She muttered the last part before brightening. "A regular table is fine."

Andrew nodded a little too eagerly, leading us to a cozy corner table. As he walked away, Ava gave me a knowing look.

"What did you do to him?"

I tilted my head. "What?"

Her lips curved into a smirk. "He was practically shaking near you. Did you threaten him?"

I shrugged, reaching for the menu. "I didn't say anything to him recently."

She rolled her eyes but mirrored my action, picking up her menu. She sighed. "Oh, they didn't change the menu."

I was about to call Andrew back, but she continued, her voice softening.

"I always liked the food here. It just never went down well with all the stares." She glanced up, her cheeks tinting slightly. "I don't mind if I order more than one dish, do I?"

She didn't need to finish. I already knew. Evelyn Pierce had never let her order more than one.

Something twisted inside me. Maybe Ava and I matched because we both had parents who deserved to be forgotten. Mine had physically abused me. Hers hadn't, but they'd done something worse—forcing her to maintain a facade.

I made a mental note to revisit my list of punishments. There was no rush—vengeance was best served cold.

"No," I said, my tone softening as I leaned forward. "You can order as much as you want. Everything on the menu, if you like."

Her gaze softened, and a small smile tugged at her lips. "That's a bit much, don't you think?"

"I don't think so. You deserve it."

Her smile grew, and for a moment, the world outside this table ceased to exist.

As we waited for the waiter, the conversation drifted to lighter topics. She teased me about my lack of subtlety, and I countered by pointing out her habit of biting her lip when nervous.

"It's not a habit," she argued, crossing her arms.

"It is."

"Is not."

I smirked, leaning closer. "You're doing it right now."

Her lips parted in surprise before she stopped, shooting me a playful glare. "You're going to regret saying I could order everything."

The waiter arrived, holding a notepad and pen with a rehearsed smile. Ava glanced up, her expression soft as she began to order. Her voice was light but confident, listing dishes with enthusiasm. She added a small laugh after her last request. "I've always wanted to try the dessert here without my mother breathing down my neck about calories."

I watched her, pleased by her enjoyment. But then, something caught my attention—something that made my jaw tighten. The waiter, standing too close, lingered as Ava spoke, his eyes fixed on her a moment too long. His smile widened, and I saw something in his expression I didn't like.

I cleared my throat, sharp and deliberate.

The waiter's eyes snapped to me. I didn't say a word, but my glare was enough. He paled, visibly swallowing as he turned back to Ava. His pen trembled, but instead of recovering, he stammered, "I'll, uh, I'll put this in for you right away. Will you be needing anything, sir?"

"No," I said coldly. He froze, pen mid-air. "Leave and don't come back here."

His eyes darted nervously between us, and when I didn't break my stare, he nodded quickly and scrambled away.

I leaned back, expecting Ava to chastise me for overreacting. But instead, a small smile tugged at her lips. She shook her head, amused. "Well, now that you've scared him off, I wonder if I'll even get my food."

Her words eased the tension. Her eyes sparkled, but then her smile faded, replaced by a hesitant expression. She adjusted her posture, clearing her throat as her fingers played nervously with her napkin.

"Since we're here and talking…" she began, her voice quieter. She hesitated, her eyes darting down to the table before flicking back up to mine. "There's… something I wanted to talk to you about."

I raised a brow, watching her closely as unease crept into her posture. "What is it?"

Her cheeks flushed, and she shifted, clearly trying to muster the courage to speak. My hackles rose—was something wrong?

"I…" She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. Her blush deepened, and she finally blurted out, "It's about sex…"