Chapter 258

Grayson’s POV

I knew how I felt, but I didn't know how to name it. Relief? Perhaps. But it didn't settle as relief should. It sat in my chest like an unfamiliar weight, something I didn't know how to carry. The fight was over—at least this one—but the internal battle raged on. The past clawed at my mind, demanding acknowledgement. The present pressed in, urging me forward. And the future… the future waited, uncertain yet possible.

Ava. My children.

That's where my mind needed to be, where my thoughts should remain. Not in the wreckage of the past, but in the promise of what could be. I had spent so much of my life in darkness, consumed by war, vengeance, and survival. But they—Ava and my children—gave me something different. A reason to step from the shadows. A reason to be more than just the man who fought, who won, who lost, who bled.

For the first time, I saw a future where I wasn't merely existing. I saw a future where I lived.

But there were things to do first. The realm needed to know I was alive. My enemies needed to know. My allies, too. Silence had been a weapon, but now it was time to break it. I had spent too long in the war, allowing it to shape and define me, but that was over. Not entirely, but not in the same way.

And then there was Damien.

I exhaled, rubbing a hand over my face as I leaned back in my chair. The study was dim, lit only by the fireplace in the corner, casting shadows along the walls. The weight of everything pressed down, and I let my gaze drift to the ceiling, as if the answers I sought were written there.

Then, the silence broke. The sharp, insistent ringing of the phone on my desk cut through the stillness.

It rang once. Twice.

I stared at it. I could let it ring. Let whoever was on the other end sit with their questions, their assumptions. Let them wonder if the rumors were true, if I was truly gone.

But I already knew who it was.

With a slow breath, I reached for the phone, bringing it to my ear. I didn't say a word. Neither did he. Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, filled with unspoken understanding. Then Carter finally exhaled, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet, lacking its usual easy drawl, stripped of anything unnecessary.

"You are alive."

I didn't answer. What was I supposed to say? I hadn't even begun to process the fact that I was here, breathing, still a part of this world. And yet Carter already knew. I didn't know how he'd found out so quickly. News traveled fast, but this felt instantaneous.

I tried to gather my thoughts, to piece together something to say, but nothing came. It felt like a moment I didn't quite know how to handle. Carter didn't fill the silence as he normally would. He let it linger, let it settle.

Then, finally, he said, "I don't know what magic spell you used this time." A beat of quiet, and then, softer, "But I am glad you are alive, Grayson Blackwood."

Something in me shifted. A tension I hadn't realized was there loosened, just a little. I could hear the truth in his voice, the relief, the understanding. Carter had never been sentimental, but this wasn't about words—it was about the meaning behind them.

Before I could speak, before I could even attempt a response, he chuckled quietly. "It was a shame to have lost my biggest client."

A slow smile tugged at my lips. Then, just like that, he ended the call.

I stared at the phone for a long moment before setting it down. Then I didn't think—I just moved. My body took over, my feet leading me out of my study before I even registered the decision. The plans forming in my head weren't just about the realm. They were bigger. The world was shifting, and as much as I hated owing anyone, I knew there was only one person who could break the news properly.

That I was alive and back.

Alessia. I had shut her out completely, without remorse, after promising her an exclusive interview in Italy. I owed her. And I wasn't the kind of man who left debts unsettled.

As I walked through the halls, heads bowed in my direction. The shock on their faces was evident—wide eyes, expressions frozen between disbelief and awe. It was understandable. Grayson Blackwood was dead. Or so they believed. But now I was here, very much alive, and their world had tilted on its axis.

I didn't stop. I didn't acknowledge their reactions. I just kept going, letting my instincts guide me.

It wasn't until I reached the outside that I realized where my feet had carried me: Elaine's apartment.

I stood before her door, my hand already raised before I fully processed what I was doing. This wasn't planned. It wasn't calculated. And yet, I knocked.

A beat of silence. Then the soft click of the lock turning. The door swung open, revealing Elaine's startled expression. Her lips parted slightly, her brows furrowing as she took in the sight of me. "Grayson," she breathed, as if unsure if she were seeing a ghost. "What—"

I didn't let her finish. "Do you want to go somewhere together?" The words came out raw and unpolished. "We never got a chance before. And I promised."

I wasn't sure what I expected—hesitation, confusion, maybe even rejection. But her eyes softened, her gaze searching mine for something unspoken before she finally nodded.

"Come in," she said, stepping back. "Let me change into something more appropriate."

I hesitated only a second before stepping inside. The moment I did, my wolf stirred, growling low and deep. The sound resonated through me, a presence I'd almost forgotten. The curse was broken, and he was back.

I hadn't realized how much I'd missed him until now. The silence in my mind had been unnatural, the absence of something that was supposed to be there. But now, that void was gone, filled with the steady, familiar weight of him.

His growl rumbled again, not out of anger, but something else: recognition, awareness.

The scent of Elaine's apartment hit me then, warm and familiar, stirring something deep in my memory. It reminded me of my mother; it smelled like home—not the place itself, but the feeling.

And then it clicked. I had never been inside her apartment before. Not once.

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to focus as my gaze swept over the space. It was small but lived-in, cozy in a way I hadn't pictured. Books stacked haphazardly on the coffee table. A half-drunk cup of tea resting on the windowsill. A blanket draped carelessly over the arm of the couch, as if she'd been there just moments before I knocked.

I could hear her moving in the other room, the soft rustling of fabric as she changed. My wolf growled again, quieter this time. I inhaled deeply, steadying myself.

A minute later, she stepped back out, now dressed in jeans and a sweater. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, watching me with a mix of curiosity and something else I couldn't quite place.

"So," she said, crossing her arms, "Where are we going?"

I held her gaze, letting the silence stretch before I finally spoke. "You saved my life by shooting Liam, even though I still ended up—" I added, watching for her reaction, "And you once told me your favorite princess was Merida."

Her brows lifted slightly, as if surprised I remembered. But I did.

"And?" she prompted, tilting her head.

"I heard what you said to Ava, and we're going to pay Liam a visit." Leaning in, I added, "And this time, I have arrows that will hurt a werewolf a hell of a lot more than regular bullets ever could."