Chapter 55

We slipped away from the bonfire, leaving the crackling flames and laughter behind. Richard's hand brushed my back as he guided me to a quiet patch of grass. The stars overhead were cold and sharp, a thousand watchful eyes.

We sat close but not touching. He handed me a glass.

"To surviving," he said, voice low and ragged.

My fingers trembled as I lifted mine.

"To winning. I'm proud of you, Richard. Even after everything, you did it."

His eyes didn't leave mine.

"I wouldn’t have without you. I was ready to give up. You kept them from abandoning me. You kept me together. Even when I didn’t deserve it."

We drank in silence, words sticking in our throats.

I could feel the heat of him beside me. My wolf strained to close the space. I forced her down.

When I finally stood, he rose too, close enough our shoulders brushed. We walked back to Richard's room slowly, the grass damp under our shoes. When we got inside, we didn't say goodnight, we just drifted through the quiet routines of getting ready for bed, brushing teeth in silence, tugging off jackets and boots, sharing the lamp by the side table. It felt comfortable, like we'd done it a thousand times before, because we had. And it felt less like reckless behavior and more like returning to normalcy.

The next morning, I was in the bathroom, shaking trying to clasp my necklace before the council meeting. Richard knocked once and came in without waiting.

"Let me."

His voice was softer than I'd heard in days. I froze but let him. His fingers were warm against my neck, lingering too long. I shivered.

He pressed his palm against my shoulder. "You look like you're going to war."

I swallowed. "I am."

He squeezed gently before stepping away. We walked to the event in tense silence. The corridors were packed with staff and allies.

A sudden surge split us apart. The staff weren't just bustling, they were arguing loudly about security protocols and election results, creating a chaotic, shoving mass that felt dangerous. Someone pushed between us roughly, sending me stumbling. For a split second I couldn't see him at all. My wolf snarled in panic and the air seemed too thin to breathe. Panic flooded me. I turned in circles, heart pounding. I saw him shoving people aside to get to me.

When our eyes locked, I pushed forward, grabbing his arm. He froze, then slowly covered my hand with his.

"You okay?" he said softly.

When the onlookers started to whisper, he let go, his face hardening into the Alpha King mask.

Inside, the meeting room was heavy with tension.

The council was grim.

When the official election results were announced—Richard and David as the final showdown—it felt like the air was sucked out of the room. Now that the dust had settled, the room was flooded with anxieties and murmurs of war.

Richard didn’t react except to squeeze my hand hard enough to hurt.

I didn’t pull away.

After that, the subtle touches started.

In private meetings, he'd lean too close, breath warm on my ear, voice low and intimate.

Our knees brushed. His fingers would linger on mine when passing documents. My wolf reacted every time, muscles coiling. My heart was worse.

We had a few good days. He'd catch my eye across meetings and we'd share these soft smiles. He helped me carry paperwork back to my office. He fixed my necklace again one morning and his fingers shook a little. It was so stupidly tender it made my chest ache. For a minute, I thought maybe we were really okay. Maybe we'd finally found the balance.

Then the photos broke.

Paparazzi shots of Richard meeting Jenny and Elsa—his ex mate, the woman he was bonded to before she broke the bond—in a botanical park.

Elsa laughing, hand on his arm.

Jenny smirking at the camera.

The headlines were brutal.

"Rekindling old alliances?"

"Alpha King’s old flame returned."

"Bringing family back to politics."

Staff left the prints on my desk, not even pretending they hadn’t seen them.

My heart cracked. I picked them up, fingers trembling. I stared so long the paper wrinkled in my sweaty hands. My stomach churned until I thought I’d throw up.

That night I didn't go to his room.

I didn’t even try.

I locked my door to my apartment and slid down it to the floor, pressing my palms over my eyes.

I pictured him with her, Elsa's laugh echoing in my skull.

Her hand on his chest.

Him choosing her because she was safe, acceptable.

Because she would never be a weakness the council could use.

I thought of him in bed with her, whispering secrets in the dark.

My chest hurt so badly I couldn't breathe.

I ripped the photos into tiny pieces and threw them out.

But I still saw them when I closed my eyes.

I cried until my throat was raw.

The next morning my eyes were swollen, my voice hoarse.

Emma caught me in the hall, concern written all over her face.

"Amelia? Hey—"

I pushed past her.

Simon called my name from down the corridor.

I ignored him.

My wolf whimpered in my chest, confused and angry. At work, Richard spotted me from across the room.

Relief softened his face. He took a step toward me.

"Amelia—"

His voice broke. I flinched back so hard my shoulder hit the doorframe.

"Don’t. Just don’t."

My voice cracked on the last word. I couldn’t look at him. I turned and left, leaving him standing there, watching me go. I didn’t go back to his room. Not that night. Not the next.

I lay awake in my own bed, covers pulled to my chin like they could keep the world out. My wolf paced restlessly. She hated this. I hated this. But I wouldn’t do it, I wouldn’t be the weakness he regretted.

Three days later, Adam found me hiding in the archive room, pretending to read while shaking so hard the pages rattled.

He startled me so badly I dropped the binder.

"Jesus, Adam—"

He didn’t smile.

"You're pulling away now? After everything? When he needs you most?"

My eyes burned.

"You saw the photos! You think I'm going to keep humiliating myself while he’s meeting with her? While he’s choosing her? I’m not going to be that stupid. I’m not going to be the one waiting at his door like some lovesick puppy while he makes deals in bed with his perfect political match!"

Adam’s face twisted in frustration.

"You really think that's what this is? Amelia, he’s dying without you. You’re the only one who can tell him no. The only one he trusts to be honest. You're his anchor. He's out there drowning right now and you're letting him. You're handing him to them on a silver platter. Jenny. Elsa. The council that wants you gone. You're giving them exactly what they want. You think those photos just happened? You think they didn’t know exactly what they were doing?"

I choked on a sob.

My fingers dug into the file I had dropped.

Adam didn't soften.

"Look at you. You haven’t slept in days. You look like shit. You're making yourself sick. And for what? Your pride? Because you’re scared he’ll choose someone else? Amelia, if you push him away, he will. He'll do it because he thinks he has to. And he'll hate himself for it every second. And you will too. So figure it out. Before you both burn this to the ground just to prove you're not in love."

"Adam, whose side are you even on?" I croaked, voice hoarse. "Jenny's? Richard's? Mine? I don't even know anymore. I used to think you were only on your own side, but now I don't know. Shouldn't you be cozying up to your future mother-in-law instead of yelling at me?"

Adam's eyes narrowed, voice dropping. "You really think I'm on anyone's side? Come on, Amelia. I'm just trying to keep the Pack from falling apart. And yeah, maybe I'm pushing you because you're the only one who can actually reach him when he's like this. If you want to call that picking sides, fine. But don't pretend you don't know why I'm doing it."

I didn't know what game he was playing, but I wasn't falling for it.