Chapter 59

Elsa cemented herself into the House the same way mold grew in damp corners, quietly, steadily, and impossible to scrub out without tearing something.

She wasn’t formally part of the political team, but she didn’t need to be. She was everywhere. Hovering near every press briefing, offering opinions during council prep, shadowing Jenny at events like she was born to it. She never touched policy, but she sunk her claws deep into the Pack’s public-facing machinery, shaping narratives, molding perceptions, choreographing the illusion of cohesion.

“Public trust is emotional,” she told the communications staff one afternoon, standing at the head of the media strategy table. “It’s not about what we do. It’s about how we look doing it. If people think we’re unified, they’ll believe we are. That’s the game.”

She didn’t say it with pride. She said it like it was obvious. Like we were all behind for not understanding it sooner.

No one argued with her, not even Richard. Especially not Richard.

It started with her attending a few meetings as an observer. Then came the input, casual at first. Comments about framing and headlines. Suggestions for how Richard and Jenny should pose in photos. Soon she had a seat at the table, unofficial but unchallenged. Staff deferred to her. She adjusted messaging, restructured public updates, dictated the tone of House outreach. And every time I tried to speak up, I felt myself being tuned out like background noise.

I watched from the sidelines as she orchestrated a version of House unity that looked flawless in photographs and fake as hell up close. She’d stand beside Richard at events with a neutral smile, all serene elegance, as if they hadn’t spent years trying to destroy each other. She called it optics, I called it a lie.

Richard, for his part, said nothing. He rarely met my eyes anymore. When Elsa made some saccharine comment about unity or tradition, his mouth would tighten, but that was it. He let it happen. Maybe he didn’t have the energy to fight it. Maybe he believed it helped the Pack. Maybe he was just trying to survive the storm by going limp in the water.

But every time Elsa smiled in a council photo, every time she corrected someone in a briefing with that soft condescending tone, my grip on my self-control frayed.

“She’s not even on staff,” I muttered to Emma after one particularly infuriating meeting.

Emma didn’t look up from her tablet. “She doesn’t need to be. She’s part of the House image now. Jenny’s team already has photo ops scheduled through next month.”

“She’s not part of the story,” I snapped. “She’s a political prop.”

Emma gave me a long look. “So were you. Until recently.”

I looked at Emma, my voice low and tight. “Have you heard the rumors? That she’s reclaiming her place as Luna? That she and Richard are repairing the image of a functional royal family?”

Emma didn’t respond right away. She didn’t have to. The silence was enough.

The whispers started up again. Worse than before. Now, with Elsa smiling beside Richard and me getting pushed further out of frame, the story morphed. I wasn’t just the distraction anymore, I was the mistake. The phase. The embarrassing blip on the King’s record. The thing he had to recover from so the House could move forward.

I caught snippets in hallways, murmured jokes in breakrooms, eye rolls I was never supposed to see. I heard my name paired with words like "ambition" and "bedroom." They didn’t even lower their voices anymore.

“I bet she thought she was gonna be the new Luna,” someone said in the hallway, not realizing I was around the corner.

“Yeah, that orphan girl? She was never a real fit. I heard she only got promoted because she was sleeping in the his room.”

I stood there in the shadows, fists clenched so tightly my knuckles popped.

No one denied it, no one corrected them.

Two days later, the Frost Fang delegation arrived. Tensions were high. Their Alpha was infamously difficult, his advisors prickly and suspicious of any perceived weakness. They respected tradition and power, not optics. Which meant the only ones experienced and knowledgeable enough to navigate the diplomacy without causing an incident were me and Richard.

We were scheduled to co-lead the evening session. I stared at my name paired with his on the docket for ten full minutes before closing the file. I almost asked Emma to take my place.

But I didn’t, because I was done retreating.

I arrived early. Richard was already there, seated at the head of the table, flipping through a file with the detached calm of someone pretending he didn’t notice I existed.

“Good evening,” I said, my voice cool.

He didn’t look up. “Evening.”

That was it.

I took my seat, spine straight, shoulders back, heart pounding like I was on death row. The room was quiet, sterile. We didn’t speak again. Not until the Frost Fang delegates entered and protocol demanded unity.

“Alpha Varek,” Richard said smoothly as he rose. “Welcome to the Northern House.”

The delegates bowed. The session began.

And, somehow, we slipped into rhythm.

We answered questions in tandem. I fielded tactical inquiries on border patrol and rogue activity; Richard backed me with Pack-wide intel and precedent. He translated an obscure political reference. I elaborated on inter-house negotiations. We passed files, exchanged glances, corrected each other fluidly. Not one stumble. Not one missed cue.

It felt like dancing. Like sparring. Familiar.

At one point, our fingers brushed as I passed him a document. My breath caught. His hand paused, just for a second longer than it should have. A spark lit beneath my skin. We had exchanged dozens of files in the past, but somehow, lately, we were never able to do it without skin meeting skin, like our hands had developed a gravitational pull. I knew it wasn’t an accident. Not from him, and not from me either.

My wolf surged.

She clawed at me, pressing forward, desperate and furious and wild. She knew his scent, knew the heat of his body, the cadence of his voice. Every time he leaned in to speak to a delegate, his breath fanned my cheek, and it took everything I had not to tremble.

I hated how much I still noticed him. Hated how easily we worked together. How my body reacted like none of it had changed.

We finished the session with compliments from the Frost Fang Alpha himself. The delegates left satisfied, murmuring approval.

The moment the doors shut behind them, I pushed back my chair and stood.

“Amelia,” Richard said.

I froze.

“Please,” he said, more gently. “Just talk to me.”

“Talk?” I turned, eyes blazing. “Now you want to talk?”

He stood too. “I never wanted to stop.”

I laughed, bitter. “You could’ve fooled me.”

“I didn’t know how,” he said. “Not with everything going on.”

“So you let Elsa run the House. Let her slide into your meetings. Let her worm her way back into every part of the pack.”

“That wasn’t what I wanted,” he said quickly.

“But you didn’t stop it.”

He looked at me, pain flickering in his eyes. “I couldn’t. Not without destabilizing everything.”

“And what about me?” My voice cracked. “What about what it did to me?”

“I thought I was protecting you.”

“You weren’t.”

His fists clenched at his sides. “I know.”

Silence stretched between us. My wolf paced. His eyes searched mine, pleading.

“You let them turn me into a liability,” I whispered. “You let them treat me like a scandal. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t fight.”

“I wanted to,” he said.

“But you didn’t.”

He stepped toward me, stopped himself. His voice was soft. “I miss you.”

I couldn’t breathe. My throat burned.

“I have to go,” I said, turning before I shattered.

He didn’t follow.

But as I walked out the door, I heard him whisper my name like he couldn't quite bring himself to say it out loud.