Chapter 79

Ava’s POV

The tension in the room was so thick it felt suffocating. Not a soul moved after Isabella’s fiery declaration. The silence was almost painful, broken only by the low hum of the air conditioning.

I regretted coming here the moment Isabella dragged me from the restaurant, insisting we end this alliance before it began. I agreed Rickon shouldn't align with Dylan, but the truth was, their alliances were their business—not mine, and certainly not Isabella's, no matter the history between Dylan and me. I tried explaining this to her, but my words fell on deaf ears.

Now, we were in the middle of a storm I wanted no part of. My gaze darted around the room, landing on anyone but Graysen. Why was he even here? Sitting so calmly in Rickon's office, in the same room as Dylan… What the hell was going on?

My avoidance only led my eyes to Dylan, and my stomach churned as he stared back. He looked at me just as he had during our six-month marriage disaster—as if I were the cause of all his problems.

The silence was finally broken by Rickon's assistant. "I apologize for this—"

Rickon sharply cut her off, his voice filled with irritation. "Just go away, Lucia." He waved her off without a glance, then fixed his usual cocky grin on Isabella. "You know, I was just thinking about you…"

The anger radiating from Isabella was almost palpable, and I instinctively stepped back as her voice rose. "You think this is funny? If you go ahead with this alliance with that bastard, I swear I will reject you right here."

Dylan's face twisted with hate as he turned to Isabella. "You'd better watch your tone, or—"

Rickon cut in, his voice laced with annoyance. "Or else what?"

Their eyes met, the tension simmering. My eyes went to Graysen; his jaw was tight, his irritation evident, but he remained silent.

Rickon seemed to suddenly realize his disadvantage, no matter how this played out. He sighed heavily and turned to Dylan.

"I understand we're aligned," Rickon said, his voice measured, "but I'd appreciate it if you didn't threaten my mate." Then, turning to Isabella, his tone softened, "Please stop making a scene."

She glared but said nothing.

Finally, Rickon's gaze landed on Graysen. "And you… I can see you're already imagining ways to kill me. Kindly make it quick, would you?"

Dylan's eyes flickered with surprise at the revelation that Rickon and Isabella were mates, but the shock was short-lived. His expression twisted into annoyance before his gaze slid to Graysen.

Graysen's icy stare hadn't wavered, and Dylan cleared his throat, suddenly less confident. "I'll be waiting for those papers," Dylan muttered, moving to leave.

As he reached where I stood, his words were a quiet dagger. "You're just as irritating as the company you keep."

For a moment, the world tilted. The anger surging through me was like a tidal wave, impossible to suppress. But before I could act, Graysen finally spoke. His cold, commanding tone cut through the tension like a blade, chilling the air.

"You couldn't just walk out, could you?"

Dylan froze mid-step, a flicker of fear flashing in his eyes before he quickly masked it with indifference. He turned as if to pretend Graysen wasn't addressing him.

But Graysen wasn't finished. His voice dropped, deadly and deliberate. "You take another step, and I promise you—you won't be walking out of this office alive."

Dylan halted, his movements stiff and jerky. His eyes darted around the room, landing on me, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw him silently pleading for help. But I stayed quiet, rooted to my spot, and, smartly, everyone else in the room did the same.

Isabella, beside me, glared daggers at Rickon, who, unfazed, returned her anger with an infuriating smirk. She scoffed under her breath, but even her irritation was muted by the suffocating weight of Graysen's authority.

Graysen's voice cut through the room again, sharper than before. "Repeat what you said to my Luna."

The emphasis on "Luna" sent a thrill through me. It wasn't just a title; coming from Graysen, it felt like a declaration, and momentarily, I forgot about everything else going on between us.

Dylan's head snapped toward Graysen, panic flashing briefly in his eyes. Then he stammered, his words spilling out in a desperate attempt to save himself. "Alpha King Graysen, I—I really didn't mean that. You must have heard wrong. I wouldn't—"

Graysen rose with a slow, deliberate motion. The look in his eyes was one I'd seen since the day he tore Luca apart with his bare hands. He took a single step forward, and the room seemed to shrink around him.

"I told you I didn't want to see you near me again," Graysen said, his voice calm but seething with barely restrained fury. "I tolerated the first instance because it was circumstantial. And this," he gestured toward Dylan dismissively, "this was your second mistake. I considered detaching your head from your body, but you were respectful, and I thought killing you would only give the other Alphas something to gossip about, which would only serve to irritate me." He paused, his aura thickening like a storm. "All you had to do was walk out. But instead, you chose to insult my Luna."

The silence in the room was absolute. Every word from Graysen hit like a hammer, and we all hung onto them, unwilling and unable to look away.

Then he spoke again, his next words slamming into me with the force of a hurricane. "Take a knee and apologize to her."

"What?" Dylan's shocked voice echoed, and the tension cracked like a whip.

Rickon and Isabella both turned their gazes to me, wide-eyed. Dylan's own eyes widened in disbelief, his face a mix of anger and humiliation. I opened my mouth, wanting to tell Graysen it wasn't necessary. Dylan was an Alpha, and making him kneel before me—especially with our history—would be the ultimate insult.

But then Dylan looked at me, his expression shifting to the same warning look he always gave me when we were married. The unspoken message was clear: Stop this.

That was all I needed. For that reason alone, I spoke my first words since entering the office.

"I'm waiting for my apology," I said, my voice steady.

Dylan's face twisted with rage. "You think just because you slept your way into—"

He never finished.

Graysen moved faster than anyone could react, his hand snapping out and grabbing Dylan by the collar. In one smooth motion, he threw him backward with such force that Dylan's body slammed into the wall with a deafening crash.

I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth, while Isabella let out a sharp cry of surprise.

Rickon grinned like he'd been waiting for this exact moment. A low, guttural growl rumbled from Dylan's chest as he pushed himself to his feet, his eyes glowing with fury.

"I've had it playing respectful Alpha to you!" Dylan snarled, lunging at Graysen.

The moment Dylan lunged, the air shifted into something dark and suffocating. There was no hesitation on Dylan's part, only blind rage as he charged forward like a feral beast. His fists swung in wild, uncoordinated arcs, his movements fueled by pride and fury rather than skill. Graysen didn't move immediately. He stood motionless, his cold gaze fixed on Dylan as though he were waiting for the exact moment to strike.

Then, with almost effortless precision, Graysen sidestepped the attack. Dylan's momentum carried him forward, leaving him exposed, and Graysen seized the opportunity with brutal efficiency. His fist connected with Dylan's ribs in a single, devastating blow that sent a resounding crack through the room.

The speed and force of the strikes were terrifying. Graysen moved like a predator—a calculated, unrelenting force of nature. Dylan, despite his strength, was reduced to scrambling, his attacks becoming more desperate as he tried to find a nonexistent opening.

Dylan swung again, his claws unsheathing instinctively, but Graysen caught his wrist mid-air with inhuman speed. The muscles in Graysen's arm flexed as he twisted Dylan's arm back at an unnatural angle. Dylan let out a sharp growl of pain, his body buckling, but Graysen wasn't done. With a fluid motion, he swept Dylan's legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor.

The impact shook the room, but Dylan was already scrambling back to his feet, his movements sluggish but determined. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but he wiped it away with the back of his hand, baring his teeth in defiance. His pride was still intact, though his body was clearly beginning to fail him.

Graysen didn't give him a chance to regain his footing. He closed the distance in an instant, his fist colliding with Dylan's jaw in a strike so forceful that Dylan's head snapped back. The sound of bone meeting bone reverberated like a thunderclap, and Dylan staggered backward, barely managing to stay upright.

It was clear this wasn't a fight; it was a punishment. Graysen wasn't just winning—he was dismantling Dylan piece by piece, and the longer it went on, the more brutal it became.

Dylan managed to land a single punch, his knuckles grazing Graysen's jaw. It was a hit that would have sent most men reeling, but Graysen barely flinched. Instead, it seemed to fuel his fury. His eyes darkened, his presence becoming even more oppressive, and he retaliated with a devastating backhand that sent Dylan sprawling across the floor.

The fight should have ended there. Dylan was broken, his body trembling as he struggled to push himself up. Blood dripped from his mouth and nose, pooling on the floor beneath him. But Graysen wasn't finished.

He stalked toward Dylan, his steps slow and deliberate, and grabbed him by the collar. With terrifying ease, he lifted Dylan off the ground and slammed him into the nearest wall. The drywall gave way under the force, cracks splintering out like spiderwebs around Dylan's body.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. The room was silent except for Dylan's ragged breathing. Then Graysen's hand moved, his fingers curling into a claw-like shape as he drove it forward into Dylan's chest.

Gasps erupted around the room, and I watched with one thought—a thought Isabella said aloud: "He's going to kill him!"