Chapter 254

Ava’s POV

The question hung in the air, the world momentarily suspended. Rickon had just proposed. Minutes after Grayson’s shocking emergence from the earth, Rickon had dropped to one knee, presenting a ring.

And yet, as crazy as it seemed, I knew my best friend. The chaos, the unpredictability—the sheer madness of this moment—was precisely how Isabella would want it. Rickon, intentionally or not, had done it perfectly.

Isabella blinked rapidly, shaking her head, "You're asking me to marry you? Right now? Like, officially marry you?"

"Total screwup," Elaine muttered.

But I knew better. Isabella didn't wait for an answer, launching herself at Rickon. "Yes!" she cried, the force of her embrace sending them both tumbling to the ground.

I screamed, bouncing on my feet, momentarily forgetting everything else. Isabella, yanking the ring from Rickon's grasp, turned to me, "Lilian, look! I'm getting married!"

Monica, still gaping, let out a half-laugh, half-hysterical shriek. "You people are insane! And did you all just forget Grayson literally rose from the dead?!"

Grayson. The reminder jolted me back to reality. I met Elaine's wide eyes; simultaneously, we sprinted toward the mansion, pushing past stunned pack members. I didn't blame them; I still felt like I was catching up with events.

Elaine reached the door first, hesitating only briefly before knocking. Her voice was quiet, almost disbelieving, "Grayson? Are you in there?"

A pause. Then, from the other side, his voice—steady, composed, almost casual—"I'm dressing. Give me a moment."

I stood at the doorway, staring at the wood. I could enter; I needed no permission. We were us. But after everything—after the sheer impossibility of what had just transpired—a selfish part of me craved more than a fleeting moment, now that the threat of oblivion had passed. I wanted time. A long time.

So I swallowed the instinct and stepped back, allowing Elaine the first moment with him.

The air shifted immediately, the weight of events settling into a heavy silence. Elaine glanced at me, awkwardness flickering in her expression. I looked away, neither of us sure what to say until she broke the quiet.

"So… I shot Liam."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Oh." Not the best response, but my brain was still piecing together reality.

"Multiple times," she added flatly.

"Is he… dead?"

She laughed, humorless. "Oh, no. He's very much alive. But until I figure out how I feel about him after everything, he's going to spend his days locked up. For now, he's in Rickon's pack, but I'm sure Grayson will—"

The door opened. Elaine's words died mid-sentence. Her body stiffened, her eyes widening as she stared at the figure in the doorway. For a moment, she didn't speak, didn't breathe.

Grayson. He was there. I, too, needed a moment to process that reality. Alive. Whole. Looking at us with his familiar sharp gaze, yet something deeper, older, changed, resided within it.

Elaine's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. Her throat bobbed; her hands clenched. Then, in a sharp, disbelieving whisper, she managed, "You were dead."

Grayson's gaze didn't waver. "I was."

Another heartbeat of silence. Then, Elaine moved. She didn't throw herself at him. She didn't scream or cry. She took a single step forward and smacked him across the chest. Hard.

"You—" She sucked in a shaky breath—"absolute bastard—" She smacked him again—"I mourned you! I sobbed my eyes out! Do you have any idea what—"

Her voice broke. She pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to compose herself. And Grayson, who had faced death, who had clawed his way out of the grave—stood there and let her.

Finally, she exhaled unsteadily, looking up at him with glassy eyes, "Don't ever—ever do that again."

Grayson inclined his head slightly. "Noted."

Another silence. Then, as if the weight of the last week crashed down, Elaine let out a weak, disbelieving laugh. "You were dead."

"And now I'm not."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're impossible."

A corner of his mouth lifted—the closest thing to a smirk I'd seen in what felt like an eternity. "Apparently."

Elaine exhaled, shaking her head. "I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"I do," she pointed at him, "I hate you." Then she grabbed his face and kissed his forehead, hard, before stepping back and smacking his chest one more time. "Welcome back, cousin."

With that, she turned and stalked off, mumbling something about stupid, self-sacrificing werewolves.

Silence settled again. I was still watching them, my heart hammering. Grayson finally turned his attention to me, and the air shifted again. The silence stretched between us. His gaze locked onto mine, sharp and searching, as if he didn't quite believe I was real.

I didn't move at first. There were a thousand things I wanted to say—questions, emotions I didn't know how to voice—but none made it past my lips. Then he opened his mouth, but before he could speak, I moved. I didn't think, didn't hesitate—I went to him, pressing myself against his chest. Instantly, his arms wrapped around me. Tightly. Like he needed to anchor himself, afraid I'd disappear. We didn't move. We just stood there, holding onto each other. His grip tightened—his arms like steel, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, his warmth seeping into my skin. Finally, in a breath so quiet it barely left my lips, I whispered, "The curse is broken."

For a second, he didn't respond. Then, slowly, he exhaled, "I felt it."

Another silence. A weight had lifted, one I hadn't fully realized I'd been carrying, but not everything was over.

I swallowed, stepping back to look up at him. "I don't mean to be a downer, but… Damien still managed to escape."

His jaw tensed, but he said nothing.

"No one has located him or Crystal," I continued. "And when Rickon tried to get information from Dylan—" I hesitated at his name. I expected anger; there was none, so I continued. "Because she was his mate, and Damien is his uncle. He had no idea." I shook my head. "Even though he was extremely rude about it, he genuinely didn't know who Crystal was or that they'd been planning this for years. That was a dead end."

Grayson didn't react immediately. Then, without a word, he tilted my chin up, making me meet his gaze. "I'll handle everything relating to Damien," his voice was steady, absolute. "You don't have to be involved anymore."

I wanted to argue, but he wasn't finished. "And it doesn't matter if he stays hidden or starts plotting again. It doesn't matter. No one is going to take the throne away from us." His voice deepened. "And I'll make sure of it."

My breath caught. From us. The weight of those words hit me suddenly. I had spent so much time fighting, running, trying to survive. But for the first time, hearing him say that—not you, not me, but us—it felt real.

A slow smile tugged at my lips. Then I frowned. "Don't think you don't still have to make up for what you did," I poked his chest. "You're just lucky there's too much chaos for me to focus on that fact right now."

Grayson smirked slightly. "I know."

I narrowed my eyes. "Stop saying 'I know.'"

But his gaze flickered downward, and his hand moved. Gently, he pressed his palm against my stomach where our children were growing. My breath hitched, and then… he smiled. A real, soft smile. My chest tightened.

"You need to get some rest," he murmured.

"I know," I swallowed hard.

His eyes met mine, and for a while, neither of us spoke. Then something flickered in his expression—something raw, something real. His voice was quiet, but it carried more weight than anything else he'd said. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For coming for me," his fingers curled slightly where they rested on my waist. "For not giving up on me."

My throat tightened. Because no matter how strong Grayson was, no matter how much power he held, no matter who he was… deep down, I knew the truth. He had expected to be left behind. Expected me to let him go.

I wanted to tell him—I love you. The words burned on my tongue, but before I could say them, Isabella's voice rang out, cutting through the moment.

"Who would've thought Grayson Blackwood was actually sweet?"

Grayson immediately scowled. I turned as Isabella strode in, ignoring him and raising her hand before my face, flashing the ring aggressively. "I'm getting married to Rickon!"

Grayson groaned. I laughed. "I know, Bels. I was there."

She shook her head, eyes shining with something manic. "No, Lilian," she grabbed my shoulders. "We are getting married in three days."