Page 59 of The Wolf

He exhales sharply, straightening to his full height. Then, with surprising grace, he steps past me, his hooves clattering on the floor as he surveys the carnage, the ground shakes with his steps.

A soldier fires at him—a grave mistake. The minotaur’s eyes light with even more fury. No, he isn’t afraid. He’s ready to kill. He charges, skewering the man on its horns and tossing him aside like a rag doll.

“Looks like he’s on our side,” Edwin says, a smirk in his voice as he rejoins me after Penny tries to heal his bleeding side—it’s still bleeding, but the flow has lessened.

And just when I start to believe the tide has turned, one of the wolf hybrids jumps Katia from behind. He has a clear shot. None of us can even react, though the time seems to slow down as we watch how his jaws close around her neck before he spits out her head and it rolls a few feet down the hallway. My ears are ringing but Penny’s gut-wrenching scream is even louder.

20.

Queen

Clara’s craft room smells faintly of lavender and old parchment. The long oak table is a chaotic clutter, ready to collapse under a teetering pile of fabric swatches, and lace samples. I sit at the center, sketching out the rough outline of my wedding dress while Clara hovers at my shoulder, making quiet, approving noises. She’s all cheerful, per her trademark, but her eyes are all red and puffy from crying. I know she’s worried sick, just like me, and keeping ourselves distracted helps just a tiny bit.

Meg, sprawled on the faded velvet sofa, is more of a vibe than a participant. But hey, she showed up. That’s worth something.

“Does this thinghaveto be in here?” she asks, lazily gesturing toward the hulking stone figure stationed in the corner.

“He’s aperson,sorta,” I reply, eyes still glued to my sketch. “And wow, now all of a sudden, he’s bothering you?”

Meg snorts, folding her arms. “Oh, please. I’ve seen enough weird shit in this castle to not get alarmed. But seriously, does hehavetodo that stone routine? Or at least can’t he do it from theoutside? I don’t need Angry McGoth cramping my aura.”

Before I can retort, Clara intervenes, smoothing out a length of silk with the exacting precision of someone whowillfight for her craft space. “Meg,” she says primly, “you don’t need to voice everythin’ that pops into your head.”

“What?” Meg shoots back, tossing her hands up. “It’s creepy!”

“Thank you!” I add with a slow clap.

The gargoyle remains motionless, but I see his glowing eyes flicker—just slightly. Like he’s silently judging me for the dramatic flair. I glare at him for good measure.

“Maybe he just likes the company,” Clara says, dry as the parchment scraps littering the floor. “And weren’t you supposed to be helpin’ with the dress?”

“Iamhelping!” Meg protests, clearly offended. “But excuse me for being distracted byBig Stonyover there shooting death glares my way.”

I can’t help but snicker as I glance up from my sketch. “You know he can hear you, right?”

Meg freezes for half a second before shrugging it off. “So? What’s he gonna do? Kill me with his terrifying lack of mobility?”

“If he wanted to, you’d already be dead,” I say cheerfully.

“Comforting,” Meg mutters, sinking deeper into the sofa.

“You’re fine,” I add, rolling my eyes. “He’s not going to eat you or whatever.”

Clara perks up, curious. “What does he eat… or does he eat at all?”she asks, glancing over her shoulder at him

“No idea,” I admit, tilting my head like that’ll magically conjure an answer.

“Wait!” Meg’s gears are visibly turning in her head. “Does he fuck? ‘Cause God, I swear, if the stone gets more action than I do, I’m killing myself right now.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re marrying a werewolf king,” Meg fires back without missing a beat. “I guess we’ve all got our quirks.”

Even Clara giggles at that clapback, and for the first time all afternoon, the room feels warm and light, the tension dissolving like sugar in tea, and for just a moment, everything feels a little less terrifying.

The gargoyle stays frozen in his corner, but his eyes brighten just a fraction, like he’s in on the joke. Traitor.

“Ilikesex, okay? Big thing!” Meg declares, jumping up on the sofa like she’s just made a groundbreaking confession. “And, well, Imisssex. Hearing Julia and Alex going at it all night, every night doesn’t exactly help.”

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