Chapter 96

Richard

The council chamber had never felt colder. The air inside wasn’t cold from temperature but from judgment, from the kind of silence that makes your skin crawl. That silence followed me like a shadow through the halls of the Pack House, from the moment the headlines hit to the second I pushed open the double doors to face them all. I had known it would be bad. I hadn’t expected it to feel like a funeral. Every step toward the head of the table felt like approaching a grave.

Elder Menas sat at the head of the long table, fingers laced together and resting against the polished surface like he was preparing to deliver a eulogy instead of advice. His eyes were tired, but there was something gleaming behind them. It was not just disappointment. It was the sharp glint of political opportunity, the kind that turned loyalty into currency and weakness into leverage.

“You’ve compromised the kingdom,” he said finally, the words landing like stones. “Not just your own credibility. All of ours. The Alpha King is not meant to be a figure of scandal.”

Every elder seated around the oval table watched me. Some looked wary. Some looked ashamed. A few, mostly younger ones, refused to meet my gaze at all. And just beyond the circle, David sat with his legs crossed and a notebook in his lap, smirking like a man who already knew his own coronation date. He didn’t have to speak. His presence was declaration enough.

“Our donors are withdrawing,” a different elder said. “Three major families have pulled their contributions. Others are waiting to see what you do next. The financial stability of the Pack is at risk. So is our political influence in the southern coalitions.”

“And what would you have me do?” I asked, keeping my tone steady though it scraped at the edge of calm. “Publicly apologize for falling in love?”

“Step back,” Menas said. “At least temporarily. Show the Pack that we still have structure, that we aren’t unraveling. David could take over during the transition. He’s already expressed his willingness. We need to stabilize perceptions before the conference next month.”

David gave a slow, deferential nod. Not arrogant. Calculated. The bastard was good at playing humble when it suited him. I didn’t need to hear more. I stood, smoothed my jacket, and walked out of the chamber before I said something I couldn’t take back. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of watching me unravel.

Amelia

I was passing through the back hallway when I heard it. Two staff members hunched near the kitchens, whispering as they rinsed dishes. They didn’t see me standing around the corner.

“She’s why it’s all falling apart. If he loses the throne, it’ll be because of her.”

“She was just an intern, though.”

“Please. Girls like that know what they’re doing. She played him. Just like Adam said.”

I backed away before I could hear more. It didn’t matter. I already knew what the rest would be. My ears burned as I climbed the stairs, my spine stiff and my hands clenched into fists. My heart felt like it was unraveling stitch by stitch.

When I reached Richard’s office, I found him exactly as I’d imagined he’d be. By the window, glass in hand, scotch halfway gone, his shoulders sharp with tension. The sunset behind him cast his figure in gold and shadow.

“They’re going to force you out,” I said without preamble. I hated how small my voice sounded.

He didn’t turn. “I know.”

“And you’re just going to let them?”

He turned then. Slowly. Like every movement hurt. “What do you want me to do, Amelia? Walk back in and pretend the council hasn’t already replaced me in their minds? Demand loyalty while the entire kingdom thinks I seduced a girl half my age who worked for me?”

“You didn’t seduce me. We’re fated. We’re bonded.”

He scoffed. “Tell that to the tabloids. To the voters. To Adam.”

“You’re the Alpha King,” I said. “You don’t get to fall apart because it’s difficult.”

He stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I care about being Alpha King? About keeping a crown that’s built on blood and compromise? I would burn this entire building down before I let them make you out to be the villain.”

“That’s not the point,” I said, my voice cracking. “I never asked you to choose me over your duty. I didn’t want you to lose everything.”

“You are everything,” he said simply. “And they can’t take that from me.”

I turned away, the weight of it all pressing into my lungs. “You’re going to lose your throne. And the kingdom might fall with it.”

“I’d do it again,” he said. Each word was deliberate, like he meant it with every inch of himself.

I hated how much that hurt.

“I don’t want you to,” I said. “I want you to be the man who can fight for both.”

“I don’t know if I can be that man.”

The room cracked. Suddenly everything spilled out. Rage, panic, and blame. We shouted over each other, throwing words that struck deeper than weapons. He called me naive. I called him cowardly. He said I didn’t understand the burden of leading a people. I said maybe he didn’t deserve to.

When I finally turned to leave, chest heaving, eyes stinging, he grabbed my wrist and spun me back to him.

“Don’t walk away,” he said.

“I can’t stay and watch you give up.”

“I’m not giving up,” he said, pulling me in. “I’m holding onto the only thing that’s still real.”

We didn’t kiss so much as collide. Desperation clawed at us, ripped through every layer of hesitation we had left. His hands were everywhere, mine pulling at his clothes like I could tear the anger out of both of us. Every motion felt like we were trying to outrun the world.

He pressed me to the wall, lips rough against my throat. “Tell me to stop.”

I tore his shirt over his head. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He lifted me easily. My legs wrapped around him, and I cried out when he filled me in one hard thrust. No teasing. No pause.

“You’re mine,” he growled, voice breaking. “Say it.”

“Yours,” I gasped. “Always.”

He fucked me like it was a war he had to win. Each thrust was deep, savage, relentless. His hands held me up, strong and shaking, while I rocked against him, chasing release with the same fury I had thrown into the argument.

“I hate that this is the only way we stop fighting,” I whispered.

“Then we’ll fight like this until it’s over,” he said. “Until you remember you were never the problem.”

Pleasure coiled inside me, sharp and hot. I shattered around him, gasping into his mouth. He followed a heartbeat later, grunting as he pulsed inside me, holding me like the world might split open beneath us.

We slid to the floor together, still tangled, still shaking. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to.

Richard

Nathan’s voice was low and grim. “There’ve been coordinated rogue sightings at both southern and eastern borders. These aren’t scattered loners anymore. Someone’s funding them. Someone’s organizing.”

I stayed at the window. The cool glass against my fingertips was the only thing keeping me tethered. My shirt still lay somewhere on the floor behind me. My skin was still damp with sweat and salt. My body had found peace for a moment, but now the storm came back to knock.

“Do we have names?” I asked, though I knew the answer. I just needed something to reach for.

“Not yet. But it’s deliberate.”

Of course it was. “The timing,” I said. “It’s all aligned.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Double patrols. No gaps.”

“I already sent the orders.”

When Nathan left, I didn’t move. I watched the trees beyond the Pack House, the dark shifting just enough to make you question what you thought you saw. Every instinct in me said something was coming. I had led through drought, unrest, a contested election. But this was different. This was breaking from the inside. I was losing control of everything I had once believed untouchable.

I had always been able to separate the man from the crown. Now I wasn’t sure if there was a difference. If I lost the throne, what would that make me? If I kept it, but lost her, what would I be then?