Chapter 36

I kept expecting to hear the knock. Even after I’d showered, changed into something soft, and stared at my board for twenty straight minutes pretending to read. I expected it like I expected morning—quiet and inevitable.

But it never came.

Not at midnight, not at one. Not even when I left my door slightly open, just in case.

I told myself he probably couldn’t. That he wasn't in his room, or he got caught in a late briefing. Or maybe he was being good. Careful. Distant.

But none of that changed the way my body responded just thinking about him.

The way his voice had dipped when he said good night. The way he’d looked at me like the door between us wasn’t the only thing he wanted to cross.

I didn’t sleep. I laid there too warm, too wired, turned on and turned over. Every sound in the hallway made my heart lurch and then sink again.

By morning, I hated myself a little for it. I pulled my hair back tight, splashed cold water on my face until my skin tingled, and buttoned up a blazer I didn’t usually wear.

Professional. Composed. Unbothered.

The security briefing was already underway when I strode into the room. Beta stood at the head of the table, motioning to a projection. Two guards hovered beside him.

“Private wing breach,” he said. “Two attempted card swipes, both flagged. No access granted.”

“Which wings?” I asked, stepping in beside him.

“Yours and the upper guest floor.”

My jaw clenched. “Any security footage?”

“Scrambled. Someone used an interference pulse. We’re working to restore the backup feed.”

“Get me a list of attempted IDs and timestamps. I want Emma cross-referencing them with internal comms.”

Beta didn’t question me. He just nodded and started issuing orders.

I crossed my arms, eyes fixed on the timestamp overlay, already thinking about Adam.

The forum chamber buzzed when I walked in—papers shuffled, voices dropped. Mid-tier Alphas flanked the table, their faces tight with control. Some wore expressions that wanted me to view them as amused. Others didn’t bother hiding their disdain.

We barely made it through the opening statements before Vexen cut in.

“He’s grooming her to replace him,” he said, no preamble, just straight accusation. “Isn’t that what this is?”

The silence afterward wasn’t quiet. It was coiled.

I set my notepad down with a deliberate thump.

“I assume you're talking about me?” I said, standing slowly. “What you’re accusing me of is ambition. And the problem isn’t that I have it. The problem is that I’m a young woman and you don’t know where to file that in your heads unless it’s next to scandal.”

Vexen raised a brow, smug and dismissive.

“You’re assuming Richard’s giving me power. But what’s really threatening you is that I might take it—on my own.”

I turned slightly, scanning the room.

“Let’s talk about grooming. Alpha Rowan, your son has been sitting in on summit prep sessions since he was fifteen. Alpha Marek, your niece holds two advisory roles despite having zero experience in governance. But no one questions those choices. Why? Because you see them as extensions of yourselves.”

I let that sink in.

“Me? I wasn’t born into this. I clawed my way in. I wasn’t handed power—I earned influence by doing the work none of you wanted to do. I’ve sat through every forum. I’ve facilitated outreach with territories most of you couldn’t find on a map. I’ve drafted more legislation in six weeks than most of you have in six years.”

I stepped forward, voice steady.

“So no, I’m not being groomed. I’m being noticed. And if that scares you, it’s because somewhere deep down, you know I’m good at this.”

Another Alpha shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Someone coughed.

“And let me make one thing very clear: I’m not trying to be Richard. I’m just trying to help people. And if your mind immediately equates that with Richard, then maybe that’s the best compliment a leader could hope for. Because if compassion, clarity, and conviction remind you of him, then maybe we should all be trying a little harder to live up to that standard.”

A few Alphas looked away. One nodded. Vexen’s face had gone stone still.

By the time the forum ended, the tension in the room had cracked like a plate dropped on stone.

Simon fell into step beside me in the hallway, still clutching a half-empty coffee cup like he’d forgotten it was there. “You just chewed through three egos like they were rawhide,” he muttered, glancing sideways at me. “Didn’t even blink.”

I kept walking, adrenaline still humming beneath my skin. “They brought an uneducated stick to a gunfight.”

He gave a low whistle. “You didn’t just hold your own. You dismantled them—quoted precedent, cited their own advisors, and still managed to sound like you were doing them a favor.”

“Maybe I was,” I said, glancing ahead. “If they can’t handle a few hard truths in front of their peers, they’ve got no business negotiating with foreign packs.”

Simon let out a low laugh. “You know what that was, right?”

“What?”

“Alpha energy.”

I snorted, but I didn’t deny it.

I let out a breath and smiled. “They never expect a clean kill.”

Back in my suite, the envelope waited like a trap. No markings. Just my name.

Inside: a photo of my parents. Younger. Smiling. Someone had scrawled “TRAITORS” across the bottom in harsh black ink.

My breath stalled. I stared, one hand braced on the edge of the desk.

Then I moved—slow, careful, deliberate. I folded the photo, locked it in my bottom drawer, and sat down like I hadn’t just felt the floor shift under me.

My hands shook as I organized the briefing notes for Richard.

His office smelled like coffee and cedar. He looked up the moment I entered.

“Tampering,” I said, handing him the folder. “Vote drafts being altered before signoff. Subtle changes in phrasing. Enough to shift intent.”

He flipped through the pages. His jaw tightened. “You traced it?”

I nodded. “To a device with known admin access.”

His shoulders stiffened, but he said nothing.

“They’re coming after you now,” he said.

I stood taller. “Let them.”

He rose, came around the desk. We were barely a breath apart.

“I should’ve kept you out of this,” he said.

I shook my head. “You couldn’t have. I’m not your shadow, Richard. I’m part of this.”

His gaze searched mine. There was something unspoken in it, some war he hadn’t yet let himself lose.

I took a step closer. “And I need you to stand beside me when the arrows start to fly.”

Emma met me outside the data center. She was already scrolling through logs, her brow furrowed.

“There,” she said. “That entry—it bypassed two layers of encryption and hit the live policy bank.”

I squinted at the metadata. “Device ID?”

She pointed. I recognized it instantly.

Adam.

Of course it was him.

I printed the file, slid it into a folder, and snapped the cover shut.

“I’ll take it from here.”

“Want backup?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “Just a door I don’t plan to knock on.”

I moved fast, every step sharper than the last. My heels echoed down the corridor, my pulse louder than the click of the latch as I turned it.

Adam looked up from his desk, startled.

I didn’t give him time to recover.

I stepped inside, folder in hand, and shut the door behind me.

“We need to talk,” I said, and my voice didn’t shake.

Not even a little.