By the time he pulled into the narrow alley behind the bakery, the moon was high in the sky. He parked and killed the engine before sitting in the cab for a moment longer than necessary as he forced his wolf’s restless growl into submission.
When he finally climbed the stairs, the familiar pull of the bond grew stronger with each step, grounding him in a way he wasn’t ready to admit. He pushed open the door, expecting to find Cora poring over one of her potion books or stubbornly working late into the night.
Instead, the scent of something savory and rich greeted him. Grayson paused in the doorway, momentarily thrown by the sight of Cora bustling around the small kitchen. The table was set with mismatched plates, and a bottle of wine stood in the center. The warm glow of a single lamp softened the edges of the usually cluttered space.
“You’re back,” she noted without looking up.
“Yeah,” he replied cautiously, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “What’s all this?”
She glanced over her shoulder with a small smile playing on her lips. “Dinner. You know, that thing normal people do when they’re not running off to save the world.”
Grayson raised an eyebrow, slipped off his jacket, and hung it by the door. “You’re being suspiciously domestic. Should I be worried?”
Cora laughed with her back still to him as she stirred something on the stove. “Don’t get used to it. I just figured you could use a real meal for once. Even a big, bad wolf needs to eat.”
He couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” she promised as she turned off the burner and plated the food. “Just sit. Eat. I won’t even yell at you for not knocking this time.”
Grayson obeyed and sank into the chair she’d set for him. He watched as she placed a plate in front of him. The meal was simple—roast chicken, vegetables, and potatoes—but it smelled incredible.
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know,” she replied, sitting across from him with her own plate. “But I wanted to. Don’t make it weird.”
They ate in silence for a while with the clinking of silverware filling the quiet. Grayson couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a meal that didn’t come out of a takeout box or involved reheating leftovers. It was good—comforting in a way he hadn’t expected.
But the weight of what he’d learned earlier lingered, pressing against the moment like a storm cloud on the horizon. He set his fork down, and his appetite faded as the responsibility he carried reared its head.
“Cora, we need to talk.”
She looked up from her plate, and her expression instantly shifted to concern. “What happened?”
He took a moment to choose his words carefully. “I found Theodore. He’s planning another auction. Bellefleur is one of their targets for acquiring…assets.”
Her fork clattered against her plate as her hand fell to the table. “What? Why Bellefleur?”
He’d thought—naively, maybe—that the network would have steered clear of Bellefleur now that they knew Black Ops had a foothold in the area. They knew the risk. Surely, they wouldn’t continue targeting the town. Sure, he knew they would still want to come after Cora, but to keep coming for their females… Clearly, he’d underestimated just how bold—and desperate—they’d become.
“It’s full of witches and shifters. Easy pickings for a network like his,” Grayson explained. “They’ve already started rounding people up in nearby towns. It’s only a matter of time before they make a move here.”
Grayson could see the flicker of fear behind her eyes, though she quickly masked it with anger. “And what are we supposed to do? Just wait for them to come knocking?”
“No. The pack’s on alert. We’re setting up patrols, keeping an eye on anything suspicious. I won’t let them get near you.”
“You mean you won’t let them get near us.”
Grayson clenched his fists under the table. “This isn’t the time to argue semantics, Cora. My job is to keep you safe.”
“I’m not helpless, Grayson,” she shot back. “You don’t have to shield me from everything. Especially if it involves my home.”
He knew he should tell her the rest—that the auction network wasn’t just targeting Bellefleur but her specifically. But the fear in her eyes, thinly veiled behind her defiance, kept the words locked in his throat. What good would it do to burden her with that? She was already carrying enough.
Grayson chose silence instead, letting the moment stretch between them until she finally broke eye contact with a frustrated shake of her head.
“You’re impossible, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” he replied.
