Page 40 of The Wolf

“That’s the endgame?” I ask slowly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Alex nods. “Yeah. Create the New World Order with Lilith as the ruler like it was when she first overthrew Satan.”

I shake my head, disbelief churning in my gut. “But… you’re the Antichrist,” I blurt out.

Alex chuckles, a humorless sound that echoes faintly in the empty hallways. “According to their religion, I’m the one who’s supposed to bring the Apocalypse—which, for them, is the war against Lilith.”

My mind races, trying to process everything. “So… we’re the good guys?” I ask finally, though the question feels absurd even as it leaves my lips.

Alex tilts his head, a faint smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. “Depends on who’s telling the story.”

For a moment, silence falls between us, the enormity of what he’s just told me settling over me like a thick fog. I can almost feel the weight of it pressing down on my chest.

But I take a deep breath, the realization sinking in. He doesn’t keep me in the dark out of malice—he’s trying to protect me. And maybe I don’t need to knoweverythingright away to not drive myself insane. And yet, I can’t help but feel this sinking pit in my stomach.

“Come, let’s wake him up.” Alex grabs my hand and pulls me forward. “He’s just a precaution, I should be back in a couple of days. We’re strong, and with Satan, it’s a sure win.” He squeezes my hand in his grip a little harder. “Julia, I don’t want you to stress over this so much.”

Victory may be certain. But nobody ever talks about fatalities. What if Alex falls in the heat of battle?

What if we don’t have our future together?

“I’m…fine,” I only reply. All I know is thatheneeds to have a clear mind and not stress overme.

At the end of the corridor, Alex opens a tall, aged oak door, leading me inside. The chamber seems colder, a creeping chill seeps deep into my bones. A single blue orb flickers against the granite walls, ghostly shadows ripple along the vaulted ceiling,and my eyes land on the gargoyle crouched in the far corner. At first glance, he’s nothing but a lifeless statue, yet something about his stillness makes my skin crawl. He sits hunched, his featherless, bat-like wings folded tight against his back, his smooth, marbled grey skin blending into the pedestal he’s carved from.

Alex strides ahead confidently, his broad shoulders cutting an imposing presence. I hesitate, lingering just behind him, peeking out nervously from the side of his furry arm. His voice is deep and commanding as he suddenly speaks in Latin, the words roll off his tongue like an ancient spell… or maybe that’s what it is.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then, the air shifts, and with almost imperceptible movement, the gargoyle’s eyes roll from the back of his head, revealing a silvery-violet glow in their depths, reminding me of amethyst crystals. His chiseled, alien face, both terrifying and intriguing, turns slightly as his gaze sharpens into focus—unearthly, penetrating, and immediately unnerving. The horns curling from his temples are symmetrical, sleek, and deadly looking.

A dark purple, spear-shaped tongue flicks out briefly before he speaks, his voice a low, resonant, inhumane growl that echoes in the cavernous room. “Who dares to…” His words trail off as his eyes lock on Alex. Recognition crosses his stony features, followed quickly by a sneer. “Ugh.You,” he scoffs, his tone dripping with disdain. “What is it that you want from me?”

Alex crosses his arms, his towering frame forming a long, shadowy silhouette over the gargoyle. His expression doesn’t falter, steady and unyielding. “Is that really how you want to address me?”

“You’re not my king,” the gargoyle snaps, his low-pitched voice laced with venom.

Alex’s eyes narrow, and I catch an eerie warning flashing in the molten gold pools. “Youwillshow me respect.”

The gargoyle leans forward, his claws scraping against the edge of his pedestal. “That was mebeingrespectful.”

Alex doesn’t rise to the bait. “I have a job for you.”

The gargoyle straightens, his wings moving in sync with his back muscles, creating a gentle, pulsing vibration in the space between us. “No.” The refusal is immediate, flat, and final. “I’m not interested.”

“You live among us,” Alex counters, his voice sharp as a blade, “so make yourself useful for a change.”

The gargoyle laughs bitterly. “I didn’t choose this prison.”

“You once promised your alliance to the Queen.”

“The Queen is dead,” the gargoyle replies, his voice quieter now, though no less scornful. “I owe you nothing.”

“I’ve taken a queen.”

There’s a pause. The gargoyle tilts his head, considering Alex’s words, then his lip curls upward in a mocking grin. “My service was to your mother,” he says, still defiant, “not you. Never you.”

My breath catches as Alex steps aside, revealing me. I swallow hard, my blood pounding in my ears. The gargoyle’s glowing eyes land on me, and his attitude changes. His body angling toward me, his gaze softens, curiosity replacing derision as his nostrils flare. I can tell he’s caught my scent in the draft.

“A human?” he asks, his voice filled with quiet surprise.

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