Chapter 12
Amelia
35 vouchers
I stared at the black car as it pulled up, expecting the Beta or one of the King’s staff to step out. But the driver’s door opened–and it was Richard.
“You didn’t send someone?” I asked, surprised.
He stepped around the car and took one of the heavier bags off my shoulder. “It’s late. Nathan and the driver are off duty.”
I glanced down at my pile of bags and duffels. His eyes followed mine, pausing for a beat longer than usual. One brow ticked upward- surprise, maybe even concern.
It was a lot of stuff. More than someone would bring for a quick overnight stay. I could almost see the thought forming in his head: this wasn’t just temporary. Maybe things with my mate really were over.
“I can find a motel,” I added quickly. “Somewhere near the pack house. I’ll be working there anyway.”
He didn’t look thrilled. “You’re not staying in some roadside motel.”
“It might still be nicer than my apartment,” I shot back, half–smiling.
He didn’t look thrilled. “There’s a hotel near the central plaza. Good security, clean, walking distance to the pack house. I’ll make the
call
I hesitated “Richard… I can’t afford that.”
“I wasn’t asking you to pay.”
“That’s exactly the problem.” I gave him a small smile, trying not to let the embarrassment show. “I appreciate it, but I can’t take that kind of help from you.”
He exhaled through his nose, quiet and resigned. “Fine. The office lounge is empty tonight. It locks, it’s quiet. You’ll be safe there.”
He drove me straight to the top floor of the headquarters building and showed me into the private lounge adjacent to his office. Clean, minimal, with a plush couch, a few chairs, and dimmable lighting. Quiet luxury. Safe. I murmured thanks as he handed me the keycard.
“Get some rest,” he said, but didn’t leave immediately. He lingered for a beat, as if debating something. Then he left,
1 set my things down carefully and pulled out my laptop. I still had a proposal to revise. The pen he gave me lay beside the keyboard, its weight grounding me.
But I didn’t get far before the smell of roasted lamb made me freeze mid–sentence.
1 looked up. Richard was back, this time with a tray–plates, silverware, real food still warm and fragrant. He placed it gently on the coffee table like it was something fragile. The smell of roasted lamb wrapped around me instantly, and so did the sense of his presence -calm, steady, and impossibly reassuring
“You didn’t leave?”
“I figured you hadn’t eaten.”
“You figured night,” I muttered, sitting back and wiping a hand across my face,
He sat across from me. Not too close, but not far enough to ignore,
“You’re sull reutig the same intro from your earlier draft,” he said, nodding at the screen.
Tptiffened. “It works.”
“It worked before he countered. “But now it’s your second time presenting. You can’t play it safe.”
I stared at him. “Do I really look that gullible to you?”
Chapter 12
His gaze didn’t waver. “No. I think trusting people is one of the few strengths most leaders lose too quickly.”
I didn’t respond, but something in his tone caught me off guard. Not condescending. Just honest.
35 vouchers
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, pointing to a few lines on my screen. “This part–transition’s too soft. Let it hit. You’re making a case, not writing a diary.”
I rolled my eyes but adjusted the sentence. He was right, of course he was. But I didn’t appreciate being treated like a child.
We kept going like that for a while–back and forth, editing, tweaking. At one point, I caught him watching me. Not in the creepy way. not even flirty. Just… watching. Like he was studying something in me he couldn’t quite place.
Eventually, the warmth from the food, the soft rustle of papers, and the hum of his voice made everything blurry. I fought to keep my eyes open.
“I’ll finish in five.” I mumbled.
“You won’t,” he said, and I didn’t catch the smile in his voice until later.
I don’t even remember closing my eyes.
Awoke up a few hours later under a soft throw that smelled like cedar and clean linen. It was draped over me like someone had placed it
carefully–tucked in, even.
The room was still. My laptop was closed. The lights had been dimmed.
It was the first real sleep I’d had in weeks.
The next day, the intern presentation room buzzed with energy. Half the group seemed jittery. The other half looked
And then Richard walked in.
Every head turned. The room stiffened like someone had flipped the gravity on.
smug.
He didn’t say anything–just took a seat at the back with a clipboard. Somehow, it was more intimidating than if he’d announced his presence out loud.
The first group was called up. Friendly, overconfident, a little too rehearsed.
Their presentation was smooth. A little too smooth.
The language felt familiar. Not exactly mine–but pieces of it echoed lines from my original proposal. Word choices. Phrasing. Even the layout was suspiciously similar.
I felt my stomach tighten.
Then Richard started asking questions.
“What data informed that outreach model?”
“Why choose that demographic as your priority?”
“What assumptions are you making here that you didn’t justify in your material?”
Their confidence started to fray. One of them kept glancing at his notes. Another was visibly sweating. Then Richard asked:
“Can you explain why several sections of your language directly mirror phrasing used in Amelia’s draft submitted three days ago?”
The room froze
No one spoke.
The girl in the middle opened her mouth, looked to the others, and said nothing
Richard looked calmly at all three of them. “My team has zero tolerance for intellectual dishonesty. Your internships are terminated. effective immediately.”
2/4
3:50 PM P P •
Chapter 12
35 vouchers
From the corner of my eye, I caught movement. Jason. He was sitting a row over, watch
Gasps. A few shocked glances. But the group didn’t argue–they just stood, silent, faces pale, and gathered their things.
the group like someone who’d just seen a
plan backfire.
And then he saw me watching him.
His face was blank, too blank. Too neutral to be innocent.
The realization landed like a stone in my chest: he’d put them up to it.
Jason had convinced them to do it. Let someone else take the fall while he kept his hands clean.
My name was called.
I stood slowly, my hands steady now. Clear and furious.
I presented with everything I had. It wasn’t perfect. But it was mine. And this time, I let myself glance back at Richard when I finished.
He gave the faintest nod.
Later, in front of the entire group, he made the announcement.
“Amelia’s proposal will lead the implementation phase. She’s earned it.”
The room went still. Then applause–awkward at first, then stronger.
No intern had ever been given real campaign work before.
I didn’t look for Jason, but I felt his eyes on me. When I finally met them, the smugness was gone.
What I saw instead was sharper. Focused.
He’d underestimated me–and now he knew it.
Richard
The Beta droned through the morning schedule, but I only caught pieces of it.
Alpha Council moved up their meeting… David’s courting of the Tallis Alphia’s daughter is gaining traction… people are talking.”
I leaned against my desk, arms crossed.
“David’s faction keeps pressing about your unmated status,” Beta added carefully.
I didn’t respond.
Inside, iny wolf was restless. I tried to focus, tried to tune into the meeting and register every word Beta was saying, but the wolf was relentless–snarling, pacing, clawing at the edges of my thoughts like a storm I couldn’t hold back. It made it hard to concentrate, hard to breathe without thinking about her.
She’s single now. Claim her.
If she hasn’t recognized the bond, I argued silently, maybe it’s not real. Maybe she doesn’t feel it. She’s only just broken things off with her first mate–maybe she’s confused. Raw. Maybe now isn’t the right time.
Mark her, Storm growled. Our bond will burn away any false ties
I shut him down. Hard.
The Beta hesitated. “Sir, why did you leave headquarters unannounced last night?”
I looked up at him for the first time that morning.
“Personal matters.”
3/4
