Chapter 54

I woke in Richard’s bed with the morning sun creeping through the curtains, my cheek pressed to the warm plane of his chest. I shifted, trying to ease out without waking him, but his arm tightened reflexively around me. For a second I let myself stay there, breathing in the clean, woodsy scent of his skin and the sharp chemical note of antiseptic from his bandages. Then guilt and dread twisted in my stomach. Staff would see. They’d talk. They already had.

Richard blinked slowly and looked at me with a grimace.

"What happened?" he rasped. I hesitated, sitting stiffly at his side. He frowned. "Amelia. Tell me."

I swallowed hard. Richard watched me closely. "Tell me all of it, I—I don't remember anything after we got back from the facility" he pressed, voice hoarse. I let out a long breath.

"After we left," I took a breath. "It was chaos. The council meeting was brutal. They accused me of leaking information, called me your bedwarmer to my face. You just sat there and let them. Then I found the note warning that it was a trap, and Jenny made sure I saw her laughing at me for being worried about it. Simon found me crying in my apartment. We had this huge fight about you and how you let this keep happening. He told me you keep hurting me even if you don't mean to. And then they dragged you in, Richard. You were covered in blood. Simon was screaming orders. I held you down while they tried to save your life. I thought you were going to die right there in my arms."

"You got sucked into a trap, Richard," I added, voice shaking. "Nathan told me you tried to negotiate, that you walked right into it. They had men in the trees. They hit you twice before you even drew your weapon. Nathan said you ordered him to get the others out while you covered them, that you were screaming at him to leave you behind because you were bleeding too badly to run. He carried you on his back while they shot at him. Simon said you lost so much blood they almost couldn't stop it. They brought you back and I held you down while you screamed. You kept begging me to stay. And I did. Even when I thought you weren't going to make it."

"Coffee?" His voice was a rasp, lower than normal. I swallowed, throat tight, and nodded. "Stay here. I'll get it." But he was already trying to sit up with a grimace. I shoved at his uninjured shoulder. "Richard. Stop. Let me."

I padded barefoot to the corner table, fussing with the machine. My hands shook just enough to spill grounds everywhere. When I turned back, he was leaning against the headboard, watching me like he couldn't decide if he was amused or tired. When I handed him the cup, our fingers brushed. Heat flared in my chest and my wolf stirred restlessly. He sipped and winced at the heat. "I like having you here again," he said softly. "It helps."

My heart squeezed. I looked away. "This is a terrible idea. It always is."

He didn't deny it. He just reached out, fingers brushing mine. I let him. My pulse roared in my ears. Just as I let my fingers close around his, the intercom buzzed, making us both jump. We jerked apart. He groaned, scrubbing his face. "Duty calls."

I scowled. "You're not going to work today, Richard. You almost died two days ago."

He rubbed his face. "I'm fine."

I snapped, voice rising. "You're not fine! You were bleeding out on the floor! You were unconscious for hours! You're still stitched together and you're talking about meetings?"

He glared back, voice low. "The House doesn't stop because I got hurt. I don't get to stop."

I felt tears sting my eyes. "God, you're impossible."

I dressed stiffly in the corner. Neither of us spoke much as we walked to the meeting room. The hall felt too narrow, too close. Staff passed us, eyes sliding to me before darting away, pretending they hadn’t seen. One aide didn’t bother lowering his voice. "She's in his bed again?"

My face burned hot. I heard Richard’s low growl beside me. He didn’t say anything to them. Instead he stepped closer so our arms brushed. My wolf reacted with a rush of heat and possessiveness that made me want to scream at myself.

Inside the meeting room, the mood was cold. Council members avoided my eyes. Richard’s face was carefully blank. The staff at the back whispered. I could almost hear their words. My pulse jumped painfully in my throat. Richard pressed his knee against mine under the table. I flinched, but he didn't move it away.

As we filed in, you could feel the tension. It was the day of the primary election where they'd officially announce which two candidates advanced to the final vote. Staff buzzed with frantic energy, people double-checking attendance lists and alliance commitments. I felt like an idiot for losing track of the day because of Richard's injury. As soon as we sat down, the hush was deafening. In the meeting room, the mood was electric. The official results came in with fanfare and a formal announcement: the election would go to a final vote between David and Richard.

Council members looked grim. Staff whispered, some in fear, some in excitement. The moment the words were spoken, the tension spiked so hard I felt the hair rise on my arms.

Someone muttered, "So it’s war, then."

Richard sat perfectly still except for his fingers twitching once before squeezing my hand under the table, hard enough to make my bones shift. I let him. It felt like a promise. Or a warning.

That night there was a bonfire in the courtyard. The entire House turned out. Allies from nearby Packs mingled with our people. Laughter rang out in nervous bursts, edged with fear. I lingered at the edge, arms crossed. The flames threw shifting shadows across my face. I tried to hide in them.

Then Richard’s voice boomed over everyone. "Amelia. Come here." Heads turned. Conversations cut off. I froze. He waited. His good arm was outstretched. "Everyone should know we wouldn’t be here without her. She found the data. She planned the routes. She saved my life and yours."

My cheeks burned. My heart pounded. I felt every stare like claws. I wanted to run. Instead I forced my legs to move, stiff and ungraceful. Richard pulled me to his side. His hand stayed on my back, firm, proprietary. Staff clapped. A few even cheered. But others exchanged looks.

He didn’t let me slip away. Even as the night deepened and the fire roared, he kept me there, under his arm, in front of everyone. As if to say she’s mine. As if to dare them to challenge it. And my wolf, damn her, howled in approval, in pride, even as I wanted to disappear.

It was technically a win, but things felt tenser than ever. The election results should have meant relief, but the staff were whispering and the smiles were forced. Even the laughter by the fire sounded cracked, like no one knew if they should actually celebrate. I felt it with every glance thrown my way, with every forced toast. We all knew this wasn't over—it was only just beginning.