Chapter 162

By the time I arrived at the debate venue, the mood outside was already combustible. Wolves crowded in tight knots, their voices low and guarded, tension humming in their postures. Security moved faster than usual, badges flashing, scanning everyone twice. Even the human press had pushed past the barricades with microphones raised and rolling. The last time a werewolf debate drew this much attention, it ended in blood. This one felt closer to home.

Richard stood just inside the backstage corridor in a sharp black suit, no regalia. He didn’t need it. The weight of his crown showed in the stiffness of his shoulders, in the way his eyes followed the crowd without blinking.

He didn’t speak when I approached.

I touched his arm, low enough that the cameras wouldn’t see. “You’re going to be great,” I said, voice low. “You always are.”

He turned slightly, eyes flicking to mine like he wasn’t sure if I meant it. I kissed him, firm, certain, with just enough warmth to say: I still believe in you. His shoulders lowered a fraction, and something in his eyes unknotted. He didn’t smile, but there was light there again.

Then I turned and left.

I watched the debate from the wings, fingers curled around a railing that vibrated with every roar from the crowd. The feed split the screen between Richard and David, both standing at opposing podiums like they were preparing for a duel.

David struck first. His voice slick with faux concern, he demanded new blood screening protocols, accused Richard of enabling hybrid infiltration, and implied that my presence in Richard’s inner circle proved a dangerous agenda. He never said my name. He didn’t have to.

Richard didn’t flinch. When the moderator passed him the floor, he spoke like a strategist laying out the final act of a siege.

“I won’t waste this stage with slander,” he said. “Instead, I’ll show you proof.”

He projected internal comm logs, intercepted audio files, and ledger screenshots that showed David’s donors funneling money into Hollow tech firms. The names, the amounts, the dates, all verifiable.

David tried to cut in, but Richard didn’t yield.

“These are unprecedented times,” Richard continued. “The vampires have declared war. If we fracture now—over blood purity, over fear—we hand them the kingdom without a fight.”

He looked directly into the camera. “I want to be a king for all people. Pureblood, hybrid, born or changed. If you’re here to build, you’re part of my kingdom. The hate between David and me ends here. You want an enemy? Look outward. I’m done bleeding us dry from the inside.”

Silence stretched. The moderator’s mouth hung open.

David laughed, soft and oily. “Touching,” he said. “But convenient, don’t you think? You start preaching unity the moment your polling slips. Or maybe it’s because you’re fucking your little experiment.”

A sharp intake rippled through the audience.

I hesitated for half a breath. My heart was pounding, and every rational part of me screamed to stay in the shadows. This wasn’t my stage. This wasn’t my fight, at least not directly. But the second David dragged my name into it, the second he framed my existence as a liability, I knew I couldn’t let Richard stand alone.

So I stepped into the light. My clearance badge caught the stage lights as I flashed it at the moderators, daring them to stop me. I felt every camera turn toward me as I crossed the floor and dropped the folder onto the table between them, my pulse deafening in my ears.

“If David wants to talk policy, I came prepared,” I said, lifting my voice. “Inside that folder are reform protocols approved by three departments, a funding reallocation plan, and updated relay maps showing Hollow breach points. I’ve been in those tunnels while you two played pissing contests. I’m the reason they’re still mapped in the first place.”

Someone started clapping. Then someone else.

David’s smile slipped. Richard’s eyes didn’t leave me.

“Richard said he wants to be a king for everyone. I want to be a citizen of a kingdom worth protecting,” I said. “You don’t get that by erasing people like me. You get it by showing up, bleeding for it, and earning it.”

By the time the cameras cut, the crowd had shifted. I felt it.

We didn’t go back to the Pack House. We found a side lounge off the media hallway. Richard sat on the edge of a table, shoulders loose but eyes tight. His jacket hung over a chair. His tie was gone.

I stood with my arms crossed.

“You said we weren’t going to lie to each other,” I said. “You made me swear to that. Then you looked me in the eye and hid the biggest truth about my blood. You let me walk into that room unprepared. And for what?”

“I was protecting you.”

“No. You were protecting the version of me you think you know. You don’t get to do that anymore.”

He exhaled slowly, jaw tight. “I know.”

“You don’t,” I said, sharper now. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t have done it. You say you trust me, but the second things get hard, you lie. You act like it’s for my benefit, but it’s not. It’s fear. Your fear.”

“I was scared,” he admitted, eyes still downcast. “Not of you. Of losing you.”

“You already lost me,” I said. “You just didn’t notice.”

That landed. He looked like I’d hit him.

“I’m not your mother. I’m not your charity case. And I’m sure as hell not some porcelain doll who needs to be shielded from the truth. I’ve survived too much for that.”

His throat worked. “I didn’t think you were fragile.”

“You treated me like I was disposable. Like the truth was something I hadn’t earned. You looked at me bleeding for this kingdom and you still chose silence.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Not good enough.”

He dropped his gaze, and for a long time, said nothing. Then, finally:

“When I was ten, my brother started slipping. Everyone thought he’d be King. He was brilliant. He was beautiful. And he was cruel.”

He paused, shaking his head. “One day he beat a servant so badly she couldn’t walk. My father covered it up. He always did. He told us it was handled. And I believed him because I needed to.”

Richard’s hand gripped the edge of the table until the tendons strained.

“There were more incidents. People vanished. Whispers spread. I thought if I was perfect, if I never caused trouble, maybe he’d stop. Maybe my father would see us again, not just as weapons or heirs, but as his family. But that day never came.”

He looked at me, voice rough. “When I came home from training, my mother was sitting on the stairs. There was blood on her mouth. A knife on the floor. My father was in his study talking about border security. Like she didn’t exist.”

He stood abruptly, pacing. “I’ve never told anyone that. Not even Nathan. Because if I say it, then I’m just like him. Cold. Distant. A king first and a person second.”

“You’re not him.”

“I lied to you. I kept you in the dark. And for what? To feel like I was in control? To believe I was doing it differently?”

I stepped forward, quieter now. “You didn’t trust me. And that’s not something we fix with a kiss or a promise.”

“I know. But I’m standing here. And I’m ready to change it.”

“Then say it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, breathing hard. “I am so fucking sorry. For everything. For lying. For thinking I knew best. For hiding behind strategy when what you needed was truth.”

I closed the distance and kissed him, sharp, rough, full of everything we hadn’t said. He kissed back like he didn’t deserve it but couldn’t stop himself.

When we pulled apart, I rested my forehead against his.

“No more lies.”

“None.”

“We rebuild. Together.”

He nodded. “Together.”

And when I looked at him this time, it wasn’t the king I saw.

It was the man. And he was mine.