Grayson’s POV
There was a time, long ago, when I had clung to the idea of miracles, even dared to believe in happy endings. But that hope had long faded, worn away by years of cold reality and loss. And yet, this moment felt different—darker, heavier. My wolf stirred inside me, an unfamiliar warmth laced with a quiet urgency, urging me to reach out, to make contact. It was a strange feeling, even foreign, but undeniable.
I extended a hand, and just as my fingers brushed her skin, Ava gasped, a sharp intake of breath breaking the silence. In an instant, she shot up, wide-eyed and trembling. “Get away from me!” she shrieked, her voice raw with terror.
I let out a breath of relief. It wasn’t exactly the same.
She was alive.
I immediately tried to reach for her again, to calm her, but she recoiled, scrambling back as if my touch would burn her. Panic flared in her eyes, wild and unseeing.
“Ava,” I said, my voice steady but low, as if I could will her to listen. “Ava, it’s me. You’re safe.”
But my words didn’t reach her. She kept backing away, the fear in her eyes cutting through me. Reluctantly, I released a sigh and called on my Alpha aura, letting it ripple over her, commanding, “Stop.”
At once, her body stilled, a puppet momentarily released from its strings. I pulled back my aura, trying to soften my gaze as I looked at her, hoping the familiarity would ground her. “It’s me,” I said gently. “You’re fine, Ava. Can you hear me?”
She blinked, a shiver of clarity returning to her gaze as she looked up, still uncertain, but slowly recognizing me. “Grayson…” The tension eased slightly, but her face remained pale. Her shoulders slumped as she looked at me, and without a word, she sank forward, burying her head against my chest. The weight of her—fragile, trembling—settled over me, and for a long moment, I didn’t move. My hand hesitated before finally settling on her back, providing a silent reassurance I hadn’t known I was capable of giving. I sighed, more out of habit than relief, and slid one arm beneath her legs, lifting her carefully.
As I turned, Maria stepped into view, her mouth opening with some apology or another, but I didn’t let her speak. “I don’t want to hear it,” I said coldly, my voice leaving no room for argument.
I carried Ava outside and settled her gently in the passenger seat of the car. She sank into the seat, eyes unfocused, almost like she was drifting somewhere far from here. I went around to the driver’s side, slid in, and started the engine. The silence wrapped around us as I drove, but even in her quiet, I could feel the weight of whatever she’d been through pressing down on her.
After a few minutes, the quiet grew too thick, too suffocating. I couldn’t help myself. “Ava,” I asked, my tone as neutral as I could manage, “what happened to you in there?”
But there was no reply. She didn’t move, didn’t even flinch at the sound of my voice. I glanced over and realized she’d fallen asleep, her head leaning slightly to the side, the faint lines of tension still etched around her eyes.
I focused back on the road, but Maria’s words kept replaying in my head. I forced them away, telling myself she didn’t know what she was talking about. Nothing she’d said mattered. The drive blurred as I navigated the familiar streets, letting the rhythm of the road drown out the noise in my head.
Finally, we reached the mansion, and I parked in silence. I glanced over at her again, still sleeping, and without much thought, I slid out of the driver’s seat and went around to her side. I gathered her in my arms, the memory surfacing of the night I’d first carried her, the night I had thought, just for a second, that maybe she could help me find a way forward. My hold tightened slightly, unbidden, as I moved through the house. I had meant to take her to the room I’d assigned her, but my feet carried me somewhere else—my room. A place no one was ever allowed, not even Liam. Gratefully, I laid her down on my bed. She looked so vulnerable in that moment, a strange contrast to the strength she usually held. I stared at her for a moment longer than necessary, an unwelcome thought flickering through my mind. Complicated feelings? Yes, perhaps, but nothing close to love.
I had to remember that.
With a heavy sigh, I turned away and headed to my study, determined to push everything else out of my mind and focus on the only thing I could control: finding out who was behind the recent Alpha attacks.
As I stepped into the study, I stopped in my tracks. Rickon was sitting at my desk, grinning, clearly pleased with himself. He looked up, noticing me, and said, “You’re finally home.”
My eyes narrowed. “What do you think you’re doing here? Who even let you in?”
Liam had been wrong—dismissing the staff hadn’t been impractical after all. It seemed they were more incompetent than I’d thought if they couldn’t even keep Rickon out.
Rickon shrugged casually. “I see you’re not exactly thrilled to see me,” he began, but I cut him off.
“Don’t make me ask again.”
He sighed, putting on a mock look of innocence. “Alright, fine. I told your guards we had an appointment and that you’d asked me to wait for you.”
“And they were stupid enough to believe you?”
“No, your guards are practically statues—they don’t budge for anything. But I played a recording I pieced together from things you’ve said over the years. You’d be amazed at what technology can do these days,” he grinned. “Since we’re partners now, I could show you, if you’d like.”
I felt my initial irritation give way to a deep, tired exhaustion. “What do you want, Rickon?”
His grin faded, replaced by a more serious look. “I came to show you what I’ve found on the recent Alpha deaths.”
My interest piqued slightly, though I kept my expression cold. “You’re actually taking this seriously?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He nodded. “I told you I would. Now, do you want to see what I’ve found, or not?”
I walked over to the table and sank into the chair. “Would you leave if I said no?”
“Not a chance.”
“Then why bother asking?”
Rickon chuckled, then took a seat across from me. “Alright, here’s what I’ve got: three Alphas dead, all seemingly unrelated. No alliances, no shared territory disputes. To the human investigators, it’s just three men dead in random attacks. Only one was even wealthy enough to warrant media attention.”
He spread out a few documents, listing names and connections. “I made a list of everyone with a possible motive to kill them, but there’s no link between them. Whoever’s doing this has covered their tracks well—too well.”
I studied the papers he laid before me, the weight of each death hanging heavily in the room. “Three Alphas, connected only by the power they wielded, the influence they held in our world. There has to be a link,” I said, a hard edge in my voice. “Even if they weren’t allies, whoever’s doing this has a reason—a pattern. If it’s about power, revenge, whatever it is, they’re connected. No one targets Alphas at random. We just need to look beneath the surface and find a connection.”
Rickon’s mouth curved up in a small, amused smile. “I knew you’d say that.”
I narrowed my eyes, irritation simmering. “What’s with that smile?”
“Oh, nothing,” he replied, lifting his hand to dab at imaginary tears. “I just… never thought I’d see the day when you would use ‘we’ in the same sentence involving us.”
I glared, already regretting involving him. “Do you ever stop?”
“Nope.” He grinned wider, unbothered, like he lived for these little irritations.
I sighed, pushing my frustration aside, and reached for my phone, dialing Carter. He had a knack for looking beyond the obvious, for digging up connections no one else could see. But the phone rang once, then twice, then a third time without an answer. My instincts flared—Carter never missed my calls, especially not like this.
I was about to try another route to reach him when the phone finally buzzed back, his name flashing on the screen. I answered, his voice coming through on the other end, tired and lightly amused.
“Really thought you’d be out celebrating instead of blowing up my phone at this hour,” he drawled.
“Three Alphas are dead,” I said, my voice sharp. “Hearts ripped out. I’ve got a list of possible enemies, but I need you to go deeper. Look beyond the surface and find the links.”
The line went silent for a moment. I could almost hear the weight of what he wasn’t saying, a subtle shift in the air between us. Finally, he spoke, his voice dropping to a grave tone.
“So, you really don’t know?” he murmured. “That’s why you aren’t celebrating. Even with that cold heart of yours, this… this would have been a victory.”
Something twisted in my gut. “What are you talking about?”
“Make that list four, Grayson.” His voice was low, edged with something dark. “Ricardo is dead. Found him with his heart ripped out, just like the others.”
(The final lines "SEND GIFT," "08:50 Tue, Dec 17 GO," "Chapter 71," "95%1," and "Chapter 74" appear to be extraneous metadata and have been omitted.)