Chapter 176

Grayson’s POV

+13

I was fifteen the first time my father hit me. It began as outbursts of his madness, a fury seemingly directed only at me. Initially, it shocked me; then it hurt; finally, I learned to endure it. My body adapted to the pain; I hardened myself.

That was three years before I got my wolf.

Now, without my wolf, that old, bitter familiarity with pain was my only grounding. The burning ache in my chest was excruciating, but I’d felt worse—or so I told myself.

When I blinked, the bright fluorescent light pierced my vision, making me wince. The antiseptic smell followed, sharp and clinical, confirming my location: a hospital.

The memories flooded back: the text, the shouting, Ava’s panicked voice calling my name, and the sharp explosion of pain in my chest. My hands twitched involuntarily, a grim reminder of my helplessness.

I turned my head. Dark hair rested beside me. Relief washed over me. Ava. She was okay!

“Ava.” My voice was rough, barely audible, but she heard.

Her head snapped up; her wide, tear-filled eyes met mine. “Oh, my goddess, Grayson!” she cried, embracing me. The pressure made me wince; she quickly pulled back. “I’m so sorry!”

I managed a weak nod. “I need water.”

“Of course,” she said, hurrying to the corner of the room. With shaky hands, she poured water into a cup and brought it to me. I drank gratefully, the cool liquid a salvation.

“What hospital is this?” I asked.

Her hesitation was subtle but noticeable. “It’s… my father’s hospital,” she admitted softly. “Grayson, I know you’re going to be angry, but I didn’t know what else to do. He was the only one I could trust to help you in time.”

Luther Pierce saved my life. A sentence I never wanted to contemplate, but she wasn’t wrong. Despite my hatred for the man, I knew his reputation. Alaric had told me the Pierces were blessed by the Moon Goddess herself; if anyone could perform a miracle, it was him.

I sat up, ignoring the dull throb in my chest. Ava rushed to steady me, her hands hovering. “Grayson, you shouldn’t sit up yet. Lie back down.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you playing doctor now?”

It was meant as a joke, but she didn’t smile. The guilt on her face was evident. She thought this was her fault.

Before she could speak, I cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Ava,” I said firmly, “whoever killed the Aphas sent a message to my estate just before the shooting. It was a warning. They threatened the king.” I paused, meeting her gaze. “It wouldn’t have mattered where we were. They would have found a way. This isn’t your fault. Do you hear me?”

Her lips trembled. “It’s not just that, Grayson. If you had your wolf, you would’ve healed by now. And the reason you don’t is because of me. You’re still cursed because of me. You can’t find your mate because of—”

“Ava.”

She stopped, her eyes brimming with tears.

“You are not responsible for my choices,” I said firmly. “I chose this. I’ll break the curse without my mate, but you need to understand that none of this is your fault.”

“It would be easier if—”

“Ava, stop.” My tone brooked no argument. “I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

Her lips parted as if to argue, but she nodded, her eyes lingering on my chest wound. “It missed your heart by a fraction. If—”

“No more ‘ifs,’” I sighed. “Come here.”

A small smile touched her lips. “I’m not supposed to get on the bed. My father already threatened to kick me out.”

I sighed, about to respond, when the door opened, and Luther Pierce entered as if he owned the place. Technically, he did—it was his hospital—but his arrogant demeanor still annoyed me.

Ava tensed. His sharp gaze landed on me; he tilted his head. “Of course, you’re alive,” he said dryly.

At least he wasn’t pretending to care.

He approached, critically assessing me. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” I answered curtly.

He narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated. “Any dizziness? Difficulty breathing?”

“No.”

His jaw tightened; he turned to Ava. His expression softened slightly; a hint of pride touched his voice. “If any complications arise, I’m sure you can handle it.”

His gaze returned to me, devoid of warmth. “I’m discharging you. I want you out of my hospital immediately.”

He paused at the door, glancing back. “And stop dragging my daughter into your shenanigans,” he added coldly before closing the door.

Silence filled the room. I turned to Ava. “Have you ever considered the possibility that your father might be bipolar?”

She blinked, then laughed—a genuine laugh. “At least he’s honest about hating you,” she said, still chuckling. “He doesn’t pretend to want you alive or keep you here for his image. He must really hate you.”

I smiled. “Yeah, he’s not exactly subtle.”

Her laughter faded; her expression softened. “I’m really glad you’re okay, Grayson.”

I met her gaze. “Come here.”

This time, she didn’t argue. She moved closer; I made room. She climbed onto the bed carefully, mindful of my wound, but I didn’t care. I pulled her closer, ignoring the dull ache in my chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

I rested my chin on her head, holding her tighter. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Silence stretched between us, but it was peaceful. She was right about the curse, my wolf, and how things would be different. But deep down, I knew I hadn’t tried to break the curse. I’d wanted peace, to pretend I could live a normal life without my responsibilities.

This was a wake-up call.

I couldn’t delay any longer. I needed to break the curse, find my wolf, and hunt down whoever was behind the threats. Otherwise, next time, I might not wake up in a hospital bed.

As if reading my thoughts, Ava broke the silence. “What if we tracked the number the text came from?” Her voice was quiet, hesitant at first, then stronger, determination sharpening her features. Without waiting for my response, she got up and went to my clothes, folded neatly on a chair.

She found my phone and returned. “Here,” she said, already entering my password.

I blinked, startled. “How the hell do you know my password?”

Ava rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen you do it a hundred times. You’re not exactly subtle.”

I opened my mouth to tease her, but she anticipated me.

“Don’t even try it,” she said, lightly smacking my shoulder.

I winced, but a small smile tugged at my lips. I took the phone; the screen glowed. My fingers hovered over the messages icon. I opened the app and scrolled to the text.

But as the message loaded, the screen flickered. A strange, static-like noise buzzed faintly. The message appeared briefly—long enough to see a few words—then disappeared, leaving a blank screen.

“What the hell?” Ava said, leaning closer.

“I don’t know,” I muttered, pressing the screen, trying to refresh the app. It didn’t work.

A new notification appeared. My phone vibrated; the static noise grew louder.

Ava’s eyes widened. “Grayson… what’s happening?”

I stared at the phone. The words were clear:

‘The Queen Is Next.’

Then, the screen went black.