Chapter 108

Amelia

Richard had been quiet all day. Not distant, just locked down, like he was bracing for a blow he couldn’t stop. His jaw was tight. His sleeves were rolled up but untouched, like he’d prepared to get into the thick of something and then never moved.

“She said yes,” he told me.

“To dinner?”

He nodded once. “To trying.”

The dining room was staged like a fantasy. Silver gleamed. The green napkins were folded into little fans, a low floral arrangement curled down the center of the table like a spine. It looked like a moment worth remembering, but it already felt like one we’d regret.

Jenny arrived late, and not by accident. She made us wait. Her heels tapped out a slow rhythm across the floor. She was dressed for war, black blouse, sharp pants, eyes that didn’t soften when they landed on her father.

She didn’t sit. Not right away.

“This is absurd,” she said. “You want a formal dinner? A reconciliation over steak?”

Richard gestured to the table. “We needed a place to start.”

She scoffed, slid into a seat, and leaned back like she was doing him a favor. She didn’t look at me.

“I came because you asked,” she said. “Don’t confuse that with wanting to be here.”

“No one’s confused,” I said. “But since we’re all here, maybe we actually talk instead of throwing knives from opposite corners.”

That got her eyes on me. “Don’t act like you’re above knives. You’ve been smiling while sharpening yours this whole time.”

Richard opened his mouth, but I caught his hand under the table. Let her say it.

She did.

Jenny launched into a speech that had been building for months. She didn’t even have to look at me while she said it, she looked at Richard, like she wanted to poison the air between us with words. That I was a parasite. That I’d latched onto him during a moment of weakness and wrapped myself in tragedy until he mistook pity for love. That I was leveraging his guilt, his loneliness, his craving for something soft to fill the void her mother left.

“She’s not your Luna,” Jenny said. “She’s a marketing campaign. She’s a good photo and a sob story. And I’m supposed to just stand here and let her slip into a place she didn’t earn?”

I stared at the fork in front of me. Breathed through my nose. Then I looked her in the eye.

“I didn’t ask for the spotlight,” I said. “I didn’t ask for your father’s love. I didn’t ask for any of this. I’ve been trying to keep my head down and do the work. You can hate me all you want, but don’t lie about who’s choosing who.”

“Oh, come on,” she spat. “You think you’ve just been swept along by fate? You’re not stupid. You’ve been playing the long game since the moment you arrived at the Pack House. And it worked. You replaced her. The world is starting to forget what a real Luna looked like.”

“I haven’t replaced anyone.”

She pushed back her chair, furious. “You will. And you’ll keep smiling like it doesn’t eat you alive that you’ll always be the girl they tolerate, never the one they believe in.”

“Jenny,” Richard said, voice breaking.

She shook her head. “You’re so desperate to feel something again you’ll convince yourself it’s love just because she doesn’t hate you. Just because she shows up. You’re pathetic.”

He stood up slowly. “That’s enough.”

She stared at him like she wanted to say more, like it would physically hurt her to walk away without the last word. But she didn’t have it. She just turned and left, heels striking the floor too loud.

Richard

I stayed standing after she was gone, but only because I didn’t know how to sit down without crumbling. My hands were still curled into fists at my sides, and I could feel my pulse in my throat, loud and erratic. Her words had cut through years of armor I hadn’t realized I was still wearing. She didn’t hold back, and she knew exactly where to hit me. The part of me that still felt like a failure. The part of me that still blamed myself for everything that had come apart after the divorce. For everything I hadn’t fixed.

Hearing Jenny say it out loud, that I was pathetic, that Amelia was a replacement, that love was something I’d conjured out of guilt and grief, made something hollow open up inside my chest. Because I had tried to be everything. A father. A king. A man worthy of being chosen. And in Jenny’s eyes, I had failed at all three.

Amelia moved to my side. She didn’t say anything, just rested her hand against my back, grounding me. Her touch was soft, but firm, like she knew I needed something real to hold onto.

She didn’t move until my shoulders dropped. My chest hurt in a way I didn’t expect. Amelia moved to my side and rested her hand on my back. Her palm was warm. She didn’t speak, she didn’t need to.

Amelia

I undressed slowly. The shower was hot enough to sting, and I let it. Emma knocked once and let herself in.

“She’s not going to change overnight,” she said.

“I’m not expecting her to change. I’m just tired of being the one who has to keep proving I belong.”

Emma hesitated. Her mouth opened, then closed again. She looked away for a second, clearly choosing her words.

"Could your wolf be reacting to all of this?" she asked quietly. "The stress, the scrutiny, the..." She trailed off, then gave a tight shake of her head. "Sorry, I know it's not something you like to talk about. But it's just, I've been watching you. You're sharper and faster, more aware than you were even a few weeks ago. It's not just your instincts, Amelia. Something’s shifting. And I think your wolf might be trying to meet you halfway."

“It’s more than reacting. It’s closer than it’s ever been. Like it’s watching everything and waiting.”

She nodded and left me to sit in the quiet.

Richard

Nathan dropped the folder on my desk like it was a live weapon.

“They’re escalating. There’s pressure on the council to authorize a strike. The elders are split. Your poll numbers bought you time, but not much.”

I flipped the folder open, skimmed the reports. Border movement. Mobilization drills.

“How long do we have?”

“Maybe days.”

When he left, I didn’t move. I just stared at the candle burning low on my desk. Then I got up and walked to her room.

Amelia

He stood in the doorway like he didn’t know how to ask.

“You can come in,” I said.

He crossed the room, let the door fall closed behind him, and stood there for a second like he didn’t know where to start. His shoulders sagged, and when I saw his face, what the day had carved into it, I didn’t wait.

“It’s been a hell of a day,” I murmured, stepping close.

It started fast, but not rushed, Intentional. I peeled his shirt off slowly, running my hands over his chest, feeling how tense he was under my touch. He let out a breath when I kissed his neck, like he’d been holding it for days.

“You’re shaking,” I said.

“I haven’t been able to stop.”

“Let me help.”

I pushed him gently to sit on the edge of the bed, dropped to my knees, and undid his pants, dragging them down slowly. He hissed as I wrapped my hand around him, already half-hard, growing quickly under my touch.

“Amelia,”

“Let me.”

I took him into my mouth, slowly at first, dragging my tongue along the underside, feeling him twitch against my tongue. He groaned, braced himself with one hand on the mattress, the other threading through my hair.

“Fuck, that’s, ”

He cut off when I swallowed him deeper, using my hand to stroke what I couldn’t take. I sucked him harder, faster, until his thighs tensed and he warned me with a gasp.

I pulled off and climbed onto his lap, straddling him without giving him time to recover. I pulled my shirt off, he groaned as he grabbed my hips.

“I need to be inside you,” he murmured, voice rough and uneven. His hands slid up my sides, like he needed to feel every inch of me just to remember where he was. “I just— I don’t know how else to get quiet. Everything’s loud and wrong and I can’t—”

He swallowed, dragged his mouth along my shoulder. “You make it stop. When I’m with you, when I’m in you, everything else just... disappears. Please.”

I sank down onto him slowly, both of us groaning at the stretch, the pressure, the relief. He filled me perfectly. I started moving, rolling my hips, and he met every thrust with his own, hands gripping my ass, mouth on my collarbone, kissing, sucking, biting.

We moved together, faster, harder, and when I came, it hit me sharp and sudden, my nails digging into his shoulders. He followed seconds later, groaning my name into my neck, holding me tight as he spilled inside me.

We stayed like that. Still connected. Still breathing hard.

His voice was low against my skin.

“I’m scared I’m going to lose everything.”

“You’re not,” I said. “Not while I’m here.”