Chapter 183

Ava’s POV

My eyes widened, and my body froze. The world seemed to pause, holding its breath. My heart pounded frantically, drowning out all other sounds.

Of all the things I could have said, it had to be that. The words hung in the air, echoing in my mind like a taunt. My lips parted, as if I might retract them, but nothing came out. What could I say? I just told him I loved him.

I knew it, of course. I'd known for a while. But saying it aloud made it real in a way it hadn't been before. It felt as though my heart had spoken for me, betraying the secret I'd tried to keep hidden. And now, everything was different.

My chest tightened with uncertainty. A thousand chaotic thoughts swirled: Did he feel the same? Would he ever feel the same? Or had I ruined everything? What was I supposed to do? Should I brush it off? Laugh it away? Take it back and lie? Or admit it and face the consequences?

The silence stretched, suffocating and unbearable. Then, his voice shattered it.

“I would’ve waited for you to finish your internal monologue,” he said, his tone light and teasing, “but I’m not sure you’re breathing anymore.”

His words jolted me back to reality. I gasped, realizing I hadn't been breathing. My lungs burned, my chest heaving as I struggled to regain my composure.

I was terrified to look at him, terrified of what I might see in his eyes. Rejection? Confusion? Pity? But when I finally dared to meet his gaze, he was smiling—something entirely unexpected.

My heart skipped a beat. His eyes flicked to the half-finished bandage. “I don’t know much about medicine,” he said casually, almost amused, “but I’m pretty sure a fresh wound shouldn’t be left open. Something about microorganisms…”

His words snapped me back into action. My hands, which had been hovering uselessly, resumed their task. I grabbed the gauze and antiseptic, focusing on the wound instead of him.

But my mind wouldn't stop spinning. Why was he so calm? Why wasn't he freaking out like I was? Why wasn't he repulsed? Why was he smiling? Why?

“Ava,” he said, breaking through my thoughts, “you’re not breathing again.”

I snapped. “Damn it, Grayson! Stop being so calm! You’re making me freak out even more!”

“Why are you freaking out?” he asked, tilting his head, his tone infuriatingly calm.

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers trembling as I set down the gauze. “Because,” I whispered, “I just said I love you.”

The words felt heavier now, weighed down by the irretrievable truth. My voice cracked as I continued, “And I didn’t mean to say it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.”

I glanced at him, expecting a reaction, but he just watched me, waiting.

“And now I don’t know what to do!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up. “I’m scared you’ll be mad, or that this will ruin everything, and then I’ll have to move to Alaska! Then I’ll get eaten by bears! I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore!”

I sniffled, tears welling up. “And now I’m crying, and I don’t even know why.”

Before I could spiral further, his hands gently tilted my chin up, forcing me to look at him. And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t like our other kisses. This one was different. It was tender and warm, conveying unspoken reassurance and a silent acknowledgment of feelings he wasn't ready to verbalize. Even though he had, I knew he didn't know he had. Time seemed to blur as the kiss deepened, and for a moment, the world stopped—but this time, it wasn't terrifying. It was perfect.

When we pulled apart, I saw in his eyes the unspoken words from the kiss. He didn't need to say it; I already knew. I nodded, and he smiled, gently wiping away a tear. His smile turned into a grin. “Alaska, huh?”

“That’s not funny,” I grumbled, swatting his chest.

He laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile. Shaking my head, I returned to the bandage. When I was done, I stepped back, looking at him critically. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I turned to clean up, but he grabbed my wrist, pulling me back. “We’re not done yet,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Before I could ask what he meant, he leaned in, trailing kisses down my neck. I giggled, trying to scoot away, but his grip tightened.

“Grayson, stop! You’re injured!” I protested, laughing.

“Lucky for me, I’ve got a tough wolf by my side,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my skin.

I shivered, my protests faltering. “We are not having sex after you just got shot,” I said firmly, though my resolve was quickly crumbling.

He ignored me, his teeth grazing my neck. I gasped, a soft moan escaping. Then, he pulled away abruptly, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“What are you doing?” I asked breathlessly.

He smirked. “I should be asking you that. Have some self-control, Ava. I just got shot, remember?”

My jaw dropped. “You’re impossible!”

He laughed, leaning back as I glared, my cheeks burning. But despite my embarrassment, I smiled. Everything felt right.

Then his phone rang, snapping us back to reality. He groaned, reluctantly taking the call. I tried to focus, but his energy shifted. His body tensed, a stiffness radiating from him that sent a chill down my spine. His relaxed demeanor evaporated instantly.

I didn't try to eavesdrop, but I didn't need to. Whatever was being said wasn't good. The lightness in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something sharp and cold. He was silent. Heavy, suffocating silence.

When he ended the call, his grip tightened on the phone, his jaw clenched. I stared at him, hoping he’d tell me what happened. Before I could ask, he cut me off.

“A fire,” he said, his voice flat, too calm. “One of my buildings. And… they found something strange.”

I swallowed hard, my heart sinking.

“Another message,” he added, his tone sharper.

He didn’t wait for a response. His movements were quick, almost frantic, as he pulled me to my feet. I could see the urgency, but I couldn’t ignore the creeping dread.

“Was it about me?” I asked, fear seeping into my words.

He shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “No,” he said, his voice low and grim. “It said, ‘It’s time to bring back the old days when witches were burned at the stake.’”

My stomach dropped, and my breath hitched.

“Maria,” I whispered, the name trembling, “They’re going after Maria.”