Gregor POV

The corridor felt longer than the throne room itself, carved of pale stone and lined with ancient tapestries of royal hunts and conquests. Every thread screamed power, intimidation, warning.

And still, all I could hear was the echo of the king’s voice, sharp as steel, branding Marigold as a thing that belonged to him.

The omegas scurried ahead, opening heavy oak doors to the guest wing, their heads still bowed so low I wondered if they even saw where they were going. Guards ...