Chapter 130

The courier stumbled into the strategy room, pale and sweating, his satchel banging against his side. He dropped to one knee and held out the sealed message like it was burning his fingers.

I broke the wax and scanned the page. My heart sank with every line. Border skirmishes. Vampire strikes hitting the exact hours marked by the whistle Nathan had tracked. These weren’t coincidences. The Hollow Council was feeding them information, trying to force us into open war.

Before I could share the message, Darius’s voice cut through the atrium. “Amelia,” he called smoothly, waving me toward the scaffold built beneath the cracked skylight. His smile was polite, practiced, but his eyes flicked over me like he was measuring. “A brief inspection. The staff are anxious. They’ll rest easier if you see it yourself.”

Everything in me screamed not to follow, but I went anyway, clutching the courier’s note. The boards groaned under our weight. “Why now?” I asked, my voice tight. “What’s this really about?”

Darius didn’t answer. He shifted his weight slowly and tapped one of the beams with his boot, the sound was hollow and wrong. I leaned closer and saw how the wood had been shaved thin, plaster smeared across the seams to disguise the weakness.

My chest tightened, dread curling low in my stomach. The scaffold creaked, a long moan through the boards. Dust sifted down. I froze, my pulse slamming in my ears, waiting for the moment to pass. But the groan deepened, turned sharp, and before I could draw a breath the entire structure shuddered beneath us.

“Amelia!” Richard’s shout cut across the atrium. He hit me like a wall, shoving me clear as the structure collapsed. The impact drove the breath from my lungs as I slammed onto the stone floor. Wood shrieked, metal screamed, and the scaffold came down in a rain of splinters and dust. Richard lay twisted on his side, blood blooming fast across his shirt.

“No!” I scrambled to him, pressing both hands to the wound. His jaw clenched, teeth bared. “Stay back,” he rasped, trying to push me away. Guards flooded the atrium, dragging me back as they swarmed around him.

“Secure the site!” Nathan barked. Splintered beams were dragged aside. My ears rang with the chaos, but all I could see was Richard’s blood spreading across the tiles.

Through the haze I caught sight of movement, Darius sprinting up the side stair. Rage cut through the fear. I tore free of the guards and ran. Nathan was right behind me.

We burst onto the roof, the wind ripping at my hair. Darius stood at the edge, chest heaving, face twisted. “David’s cousin paid me,” he spat. “Told me to make the hollows bigger. Said if the walls broke, the house would fall.”

Guards advanced. Darius struck a flare, smoke billowing. “You can’t cage a hollow,” he shouted, before hurling himself over the ledge into a waiting truck. By the time the smoke cleared, the truck was gone.

Back in the Elder chambers, Nathan steadied me. “Every structural project is frozen until it’s checked twice. Warrants for Darius. Censure for Callen’s allies immediately.”

Some elders worried about haste, but I slammed the courier’s note down on the table. “The Hollow is already moving our enemies. Do you want to argue over procedures while they burn us down?” Silence followed. No one challenged me again.

Simon worked on Richard at the table, binding the wound with strips of linen until his knuckles were white. Richard stayed silent, his jaw iron against the pain. The sight of him like that made my throat ache.

Later, when the others were gone, I brought him to his quarters. He leaned heavy against me but didn’t protest. The lamplight painted his skin gold, his shirt soaked dark with blood. My hands shook as I unbuttoned it, careful not to disturb the bandages. His chest rose and fell unevenly, every breath ragged.

“I don’t want to make this worse,” I whispered.

His gaze locked on mine. “Then keep going.”

I straddled him on the edge of the bed, my thighs trembling with need. Even with the bandages and the blood on his shirt, I was burning for him. I sank down slowly, guiding him inside inch by inch, careful around his stitches but unable to stifle the gasp that tore out of me.

The stretch of him felt almost unbearable and yet so perfect I shuddered, gripping his shoulders like I might stop existing.

"God, Richard…" The words broke out of me before I could stop them.

"It’s never felt like this. I need you so bad." I rocked my hips carefully, savoring the way he filled me, every nerve sparking, every shift pulling another moan out of me.

His hands gripped my thighs hard, shaking with restraint, while my body urged me to go faster, deeper, like I couldn’t get enough of him. It was as if something in me had woken, hungrier than ever, and I didn’t understand it, I only knew I couldn’t stop.

“Don’t work too hard, you're hurt,” I told him, pressing my forehead to his. “Just follow me.”

He nodded, but his hips jerked too hard and pain flashed across his face. He hissed through his teeth. I cupped his jaw. “Richard. Easy. Listen to me.”

“I can’t—” His voice cracked. “I need more.”

“You’ll have it,” I said firmly. “But let me give it to you.”

His muscles trembled as I kept the rhythm steady, every movement measured. I guided him with words.

“Deeper now.” His groan answered me.

“Stay still.” He obeyed, jaw locked.

“Right there.” His eyes burned into mine as he let me take what I wanted.

The heat built higher, sweat running down his temples, until he was shaking under me, both of us pushed to the edge. My climax hit fast and hard, and he followed, body jerking, a guttural sound torn from his throat.

After, he slumped back against the pillows, breath rough. I smoothed his hair back, kissed the sweat at his temple. His hand clutched mine, grip desperate. “Something’s wrong,” he gasped. “I feel my rut coming. It... it's too early. This isn’t the time.”

My chest tightened. “Richard—”

His eyes were wild, fevered. “I don’t know if I can stop it. And this can't happen. Not now. I can’t be laid up for days like this when everything is breaking loose. If they know I’m incapacitated, they’ll tear us apart before I can stand again.”

Richard

At dawn the courtyard reeked of lye and chalk dust. Workers had scrubbed the sigil until only grooves remained in the stone. Nathan’s report lay heavy in my hands: the truck Darius escaped on carried maps of border watchtowers, each marked for weak points. David wasn’t preparing raids. He was preparing a full campaign.

I should have been there with Amelia, shoulder to shoulder, but I was pinned to my bed, body burning with feverish heat. My rut wasn’t due for weeks. Yet my muscles locked, my thoughts tangled, my need sharpened every nerve until I shook with it.

It wasn’t chance. I knew it. I’d felt Amelia changing, her scent warming, her skin flushed, her moods quick to spark. She didn’t know it, but I did. She was sliding into her first heat, and our bond had dragged my rut out of season to meet it.

I tried to fight it, clenching my teeth as another wave rolled through me. Every part of me demanded her, her touch, her voice, the scent of her skin. It was agony to stay still. And it was a disaster. The war pressed close. The council expected me to lead. And instead my body betrayed me.

I thought of last night, of the way she steadied me when my control faltered. She had guided me, soothed me, and I knew she’d do it again if I asked. But telling her meant admitting what we were standing on: not just a bond, not just a pull, but the truth of fate itself.

She hadn’t realized yet, but I could see it in every restless glance, every time her hand lingered too long. Her first heat was calling to me, and my rut had answered.

I lay back against the sheets, fevered and shaking, terrified of what the next days would bring. The war was about to crest. And so were we.