Chapter 164

Waking up in his bed again felt like exhaling after holding my breath for too long. The morning light cut through the curtains in a soft, golden slant, and the sheets smelled like him: soap, cedar, and something steadier that had always made me feel safe. I blinked against the light, curled closer, and ran my palm slowly across his bare chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. I could hear the faint hum of the city outside the window, distant and harmless, like the world had finally paused just long enough to let me rest.

He looked younger in sleep, less burdened by everything he usually carried. His brow was smooth, free of the weight of command or compromise. His hair was messy against the pillow, and his mouth slightly open, breaths slow and deep. I knew I should let him rest, but I didn’t want to. The quiet between us felt too intimate to waste. He had fought for me, stood beside me, and let me back in. I wanted to touch every part of that.

I slipped beneath the sheets and kissed down his chest, slow and warm, letting my lips drag over the curve of his stomach. He stirred slightly when I traced the soft trail of hair that led down from his navel. His skin tasted like salt and sleep, warm under my tongue. By the time I reached his hips, he was already halfway hard. I ran my tongue slowly along the length of him, teasing him and drawing out the moment before finally taking him into my mouth.

His breath hitched immediately. One of his hands found my hair, fingers curling with gentle pressure.

“Good morning,” he said, voice rough with sleep. “You’re going to kill me.”

I hummed around him, letting the vibration sink in. His hips flexed slightly beneath me, but he didn’t thrust. He let me set the pace, his fingers tightening without pushing.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his eyes fluttering open. “What did I do to deserve this?”

I pulled back slowly and looked up at him, letting my fingers trail along the slick length of him as I smiled. “You were sweet to me,” I said. “You remembered how to love me.”

His eyes darkened. He reached for me and pulled me up into a kiss, slow and deep, his mouth still tasting like sleep and warmth. I melted into him. There was no urgency, no edge of heat pushing us forward. There was only a slow, growing warmth that settled deep inside me.

We stayed like that for a while, tangled up in each other. When we finally left the bed, it was only because the sun had risen high enough to remind us the world still existed.

In the kitchen, he cooked eggs while I sat on the counter in one of his shirts, legs swinging, hair still damp from our shared shower. He moved around the space like it belonged to both of us again. It felt natural and uncomplicated.

“Can’t believe we’re starting the day like this,” he said, handing me coffee.

“I can.” I sipped and smiled. “Aside from the you cooking part.”

We ate standing up, laughing between bites. He wiped syrup from my mouth, and I licked his thumb just to watch him fluster. He leaned in to kiss me again. It felt like peace.

Then Simon’s call came in.

A townhouse on the edge of the western district had gone dark before the election. The surveillance blackout had been brief but deliberate. Our teams had already moved.

When we arrived, the scene was in motion but tightly controlled. Inside, three captives, two hybrids and one human, had been locked in a basement cell. They were dehydrated and bloodied, but still alive.

The walls were marked with Hollow scripture, faded and smeared. Upstairs, a laptop had been hidden behind a false panel. It was encrypted and contained operator names, bank records, and relay instructions linked directly to the sabotage on election night.

I watched the recovered data scroll across the screen. Aliases, locations, and timestamps blurred together as my jaw clenched. I didn’t realize how tightly I was gripping the chair until Richard reached over and gently pried my fingers loose. His hand wrapped around mine.

“This is everything,” I said.

“It changes the conversation,” he replied.

We spent the afternoon in the war chamber. Statements were drafted, argued over, and rewritten. Richard and I sat side by side, passing notes. The silence between us wasn’t heavy. It was focused. When our knees touched beneath the table, neither of us moved away.

“We need to be the ones to say it,” I told him. “Not just about the network. My mother. My blood. They need to hear it from me.”

“Are you ready for that?”

I hesitated. “No. But I need to do it anyway.”

He studied me for a long moment. “Okay. Closer to the election.”

That evening, I stood in front of the press. My voice didn’t shake. I laid out the recovered evidence, explained the new patrol routes, and reviewed the antidote distribution plans. Then I named the people involved. I drew the connections. I made it clear who had protected us and who had betrayed us.

Later, in a private room with Liora and Simon, I stared at the documents they’d brought. Witness statements, temple records, and a single entry in an old birth ledger that had been rewritten in someone else’s hand. My mother’s name. My own. The edges of it all started to blur.

Part of me wanted to run, to crawl back into the version of myself that wasn’t responsible for any of this. I still felt, sometimes, like an orphan girl playing dress-up in a crown she didn’t earn. And I couldn’t tell if the instincts guiding me were the ones I’d longed for all my life, my wolf, or if they were something else entirely, something colder and more ancient that had come from my mother’s blood instead.

“I don’t know if it’s me anymore,” I said suddenly. “The way I move, the way I feel things. Is it her? My mother? Is it the power she passed on, or is it something I always had?”

Simon stayed quiet. So did Liora. But Richard moved closer.

“It’s you,” he said. “It’s always been you. The rest just woke you up.”

Before I could answer, Nathan entered with a transcript. There was a second planned attack. The unity rally. They were going to blend in with the crowd. No markers, no identifiers. Just chaos.

“We have to rework the entire grid,” I said.

“Overnight?” Richard asked.

“Yes.”

I didn’t wait. I opened my laptop and began again. I spread out maps, adjusted checkpoints by district, layered overlapping patrols, reassigned underground units, and restructured entry routes. I barely looked up.

Halfway through, something in me stirred. That pressure built in my chest again. Was it my wolf? Was it my mother’s blood? I didn’t know, but I trusted it. I trusted myself.

By midnight, the plan was done. I sent the final file and leaned back.

Richard was still there.

“You just rewired a city,” he said. “And you didn’t even flinch.”

“I didn’t have time to flinch.”

He moved closer and took my hand. “You’re allowed to breathe, Amelia. Even now. Especially now.”

I looked at him and felt something inside me quiet. Something I hadn’t realized was still bracing for impact.

“I don’t know what I am,” I said. “But I know what I want to be.”

He brushed his thumb along my knuckles. “You already are.”

His kiss was gentle and certain. I closed my eyes, let myself lean into it, and let go of the weight I’d been carrying.