Chapter 108: _ Grayson
~Grayson’s Point Of View~
The sun is high, noon almost beating down in that smug way only the pack’s sky can. Its light doesn’t feel warm though—it feels cruel, like a spotlight shining on all their mistakes. The portal has closed, sealing the Moon Blessed inside, and Grayson feels like someone just slammed a door in his chest.
He walks beside Morgan, their footsteps crunching over the gravel path that snakes toward the meeting point. He can still remember the labyrinth portal glowing faintly behind them, humming with the energy that swallowed Heidi whole just minutes ago. His chest aches every time he thinks about it; how her shoulders were swallowed up by that impossible light, and how she didn’t look back after stepping into it.
Not that the force of the portal could permit her to. But he wanted her to. Goddess, he wanted her to. He should be satisfied with that questioning look she gave him when the fairy sifts the rune into her hand, but he isn’t.
She’s stepped into the enemy’s den... one that the school has sent them into with the hope that they all die in there. This is political. Grayson had heard his father on the phone.
They can’t handle all the Moon Blessed. His father and some corrupted officials would rather embezzle the funds the human government provides the werewolf packs with for protecting them from evil supernaturals than to invest in the Moon Goddess’s experiments.
Grayson doesn’t care much for the other Moon Blessed, but Heidi—she can’t die. He hasn’t even properly held her hands or cracked a joke that’ll keep her awake for three straight nights.
Hell, she hasn’t gotten to see that side of him that has girls drooling. She had better not die. She doesn’t dare...
He stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, fingers twitching like they don’t know what to do with themselves. His wolf is pacing inside him, snarling and snapping, and for once Grayson doesn’t bother trying to leash it. He deserves the punishment. He deserves every angry lash of it.
Because he let her go.
Darien and Amias had been standing there too, stiff and pale, like the weight of their own uselessness was breaking them in half. Grayson caught the look in their eyes. The two of them who are always the high-minded heroes, are right now, seething with impotent fury. They watch her go, and they do nothing. It’s an easy thing to judge them for, and for a fleeting moment, a bitter satisfaction flares inside him. They think they’re better than him and Morgan, but right now, they’re just as useless. They watched the person they care for—even though they pretend like they don’t, walk into a deathtrap, and all their power, all their noble intentions, are worth nothing.
He saw the fear and something close to despair... and for a second, he almost hated them for it.
They acted like they weren’t part of her. Like they could stand outside of her pain and do nothing. But then again... hadn’t he done the same?
His throat feels tight. The thought makes him want to claw his own skin off.
Every time he and Morgan hurt her—every cutting remark, every stupid push meant to punish her for existing, he swears it’s the last time. He swears he won’t touch her again. But then the next time comes, and she’s there, with that fire in her voice, with that maddening way she makes him feel like the whole world is off-balance, and suddenly he’s doing it again. Hurting her. Pretending she’s nothing.
And then later—always later, he’s on the floor of his room with his head in his hands, shoulders shaking, and sobbing into his sleeves like a kid who’s just lost everything. His wolf hates him for it. Hates the way he drives her away. Hates the way he hides behind Morgan, behind the Bellamy smirk, and behind the easy wayward charm.
Because the truth is ugly. The truth is that Grayson Bellamy wants her so badly it makes him sick. And now she’s gone into the labyrinth. A place no Moon Blessed should survive.
He swallows hard, dragging in the noon air. His wolf whispers viciously: "You let her go."
"I know," Grayson mutters under his breath.
"You let her walk into death." Tris, his wolf affirms again.
"I know!" Grayson’s chest aches like it might split open. He almost claws at it, but Morgan shoots him a side-eye.
"You good?" Morgan asks casually, like they’re not about to cut a deal with a fairy behind everyone’s back.
"Peachy," Grayson bites out, even though his voice cracks at the edges.
"Then clenching your jaw before you break it," Morgan mutters.
His twin’s voice is casual, but Grayson knows better. He knows the tick in Morgan’s temple, the subtle bounce in his steps that isn’t his usual cocky swagger. Morgan’s hurting too.
Grayson just grunts. He doesn’t trust himself to speak.
Because if he does, he’ll scream.
The path ahead curves toward the woods, darker than the rest of the grounds, where the fairy is waiting for them. She promised to meet once the Moon Blessed were gone, once the portal closed, and once the deal could be honored.
Grayson feels the air change before he sees her. A ripple like the atmosphere holds its breath. The trees are hushed. Even the wind stops moving.
And then she steps out.
Lady Mirenia is one of those corrupted fairy leaders. She’s working with the wolves behind the back of her kind, because to be frank, the fairies didn’t give up their labyrinth of their free will. The werewolf factions were one of the first to submit a petition to the supernatural coalition, requesting that the labyrinth be the safest place to trap the demons.
Along with the petition of other supernatural factions, the fairies had no choice but to let go of their homes to live amongst humans. However, ever since, the fairies have despised werewolves and would die before ever helping any.
His dad always said corruption spread like mold—it found the cracks, the damp spots, and grew until everything stank. Lady Mirena is proof. She doesn’t wear her morals like armor. She wears her corruption like Chanel No. 5.
All you had to do was name the right price.