Marigold POV
The next day felt like a hangover without the fun of tequila shots. My body was stiff from sleeping in Nonna’s too-small cottage bed, my hair still smelled faintly of smoke from Gregor’s midnight wolf-horror show, and I was stuck in a car with His Alpha Grumpiness behind the wheel.
He drove like the road had personally insulted him—knuckles white, jaw locked, shoulders tight as steel. Meanwhile, I sat in the passenger seat, sipping what might have been the world’s worst gas station coffee. Bitter. Cold. With a suspicious coffee stain on the lid that I was absolutely sure was plotting my death.
“You missed the turn,” I said, pointing at the half-hidden road sign to the east.
“I did not miss it. I chose not to take it,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the road like it owed him mo
