Alpha Gregor POV
That night, with the storm battering the windows like an omen, I finally laid it all out.
Prince Leon sat across from me in the prince’s version of “a small study,” which looked like a damn throne room disguised with bookshelves. He was calm, too calm, swirling a glass of brandy while his human mate slept in the next room. But when I told him what Zach had confirmed—that he was the one feeding Zach information, the one I could trust—his mask slipped just enough for me to see the man beneath the crown.
I told him everything.
About the death of the real Margaux, ambush at the inn. About the chase. About the Black Fang coming after us like vultures on blood. About the girl who wasn’t supposed to exist—Marigold, not Margaux—her warrior wolf carrying a darkness even I could
