Claimed by My Bestie's Alpha Daddy novel Chapter 114

Amelia

Elsa arrived at the Haven like she had been waiting for this moment her entire life. She didn’t come quietly. She swept in with an entourage of journalists and camera crews trailing after her, their equipment already rolling before she even stepped out of the sleek black car. Her coat was tailored, her makeup flawless, her smile luminous as if the war outside was only a backdrop for her performance.

She moved slowly, deliberately, pausing every few steps to let the lenses capture her from the best angle. The crowd outside murmured as though royalty had returned to them, even though she had abandoned these same people when things were quieter.

She moved from family to family with blankets draped across her arms, kneeling gracefully to comfort a crying child, pressing warm kisses to foreheads. She stopped to clasp the hands of elders, to linger with soldiers as though thanking them personally for their service.

And when she found Jenny, she pulled her close, stroking her hair like a doting mother.

Jenny leaned in, radiant and smug, fully aware of the cameras trained on them. Elsa posed them together in the light, Jenny smiling up at her as though she had always been a perfect daughter. The flashbulbs caught all of it, and the photographers gasped like they had witnessed something holy.

Within hours the photos were everywhere. Feeds flooded with images of Elsa, the kingdom’s steady Luna, holding civilians as if they were her own children. Headlines praised her as the face of resilience. Hashtags lauded her as the one holding the kingdom together while Richard was painted as absent, barricaded in war rooms, out of touch with the suffering of his people.

I sat on my bunk scrolling through it, my hands shaking with anger.Comment after comment painted her as savior, the true leader in the crisis. Furious, I closed the feed, powerless to do anything but watch as her story spread faster than the truth.

The bitterness in the Haven was palpable. Some of the refugees were taken in by her act, whispering about how kind she looked, how comforting her smile seemed. Others muttered that she was only there because of the cameras. I could feel their eyes flick between me and the images on their screens, measuring, comparing. My presence had always been controversial. Elsa’s was polished and easy to worship.

Later, in the corridors, I caught sight of Richard at the far end of the hall. His jaw was tight, his shoulders braced, his stride clipped. I knew the storm was building in him long before he finally sought me out.

When the cameras were gone, he found me in his office. He didn’t roar or rage. He sat heavily on the edge of the desk and dragged his hand through his hair.

“She knows exactly what she’s doing,” he said. His voice was low, but sharp. “She always did. That smile is a weapon sharper than any blade, and I can’t counter it without looking cruel. If I speak, | look petty. If I stay silent, I look weak.” He raked a hand through his hair and let out a bitter laugh.

“She’s banned from the Pack House after trying to poison me, but this isn’t the Pack House. There was never enough evidence to extend that ban further, and she is smart enough not to contest it legally. She weasels her way in wherever she can, through whatever loopholes she can find, bending whatever rules she can fudge, anything that will put her back in the spotlight and give her the illusion of power.”

I stepped closer, but he kept his gaze fixed on the wall. When he finally looked at me, I saw it. Not just fury, but fear. “History is repeating itself,” he muttered. “I’m losing ground to her again, the way I did before.” His hand tightened on the desk until the wood creaked. I remember the last time she won the crowd over me. I swore I would never let it happen again.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him it wasn’t true, but the words stuck.

Because the images were undeniable. Elsa shining in the spotlight, Richard hidden in the shadows. My heart ached for him, but also burned with frustration that I couldn’t fight this war for him.

That afternoon I threw myself into the work. The refugees needed supplies, and if i couldn’t fight Elsa in the press, I could fight her by being useful. I carried boxes of bread into the kitchens, helped distribute blankets in the outer halls, and sat with mothers who needed someone to hold their babies while they rested.

People murmured their thanks, clutching the bread as though it were treasure, and yet I caught the flicker in their eyes. Gratitude, yes, but also doubt. I wasn’t the Luna with the cameras. I wasn’t a legend on their screens.

It was in one of those corridors that a little boy tugged on my sleeve.

He couldn’t have been more than seven. His cheeks were smudged with dirt, his clothes too thin for the draft that seeped through the walls. He held up a folded piece of paper.

“I drew this for you,” he said shyly.

I opened it and froze. The sketch was crude but unmistakable, me, standing tall, but with wolf ears atop my head and eyes colored in with a furious red. Around me, lines of light radiated. The boy looked proud.

” I saw you glow,” he said simply. “When we were leaving. You scared the bad ones away.”

My throat closed. “You… you saw me what?”

He nodded with the solemn certainty of a child. “You’re like the stories.

Like the ones who protect us when the dark comes.”

I forced a confused smile. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”But my hands shook as I tucked the paper away. Glow. Red eyes. Wolf ears. Things I had never shown, not even to myself. The boy had seen something I didn’t understand, something that left a chill in my bones.

It felt too close to the dreams I had been having, too close to the whispers I had been trying to push aside.

That evening, 1 returned to the hallways of the Haven. The corridors were quieter now, most people tucked away in their quarters. Richard leaned against the window at the end of the hall, the lamplight catching the shadows under his eyes. He looked worn, the weight of the day dragging him down. His steps were heavy, his mouth set in a grim line. I touched his arm, forcing him to meet my eyes.

“Those pictures don’t matter,” I told him. “Anyone can hand out blankets for a camera. But you’re the one who carries this kingdom when no one is watching. That kind of strength is worth more than staged compassion.”

He exhaled, long and slow, as though releasing something he had been holding all day. His lips pressed together, as if he wanted to argue, but the words never came. For a long time, he didn’t speak. Then, slowly, he nodded. The fire in his eyes didn’t dim, but it steadied. He let me hold his hand without pulling away. His fingers curled around mine, a silent answer, a fragile kind of surrender that felt more powerful than any performance caught on camera.

Amelia

The supply dock was always noisy, crates being hauled in, guards arguing over manifests, the clang of metal echoing off the stone walls.

But when Jenny’s voice rang out, sharp and cutting, the noise seemed to shrink around it.

“There she is,” Jenny said, her tone dripping with venom. “The wolfless parasite herself. Crawling into my father’s bed to keep herself relevant.”

The words cut through the air like a blade. Every sound in the dock faltered. Staff froze with boxes in their arms. Soldiers turned their heads. Whispers rippled almost instantly. I felt the weight of a hundred eyes pressing on me.

I braced myself. “If I had stepped in, it would have escalated. You know that.”

Her laugh was bitter. “So you chose her over me?”

“No.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “I chose survival. For both of us. If I defend you against her in front of an audience, she wins. She thrives on spectacle. You saw how she baited you. You felt it.”

Her eyes wavered, but her jaw stayed tight. “It still felt like abandonment.”

I exhaled. “And it felt like tearing myself in half. I will not defend her cruelty. But I also will not hand her another weapon to use against us.”

We circled each other like combatants, words sharper than blades. The silence that followed was raw, stretched thin between us. Finally, she Looked away, blinking hard. “I know you’re right. I just… it hurt.”

I touched her arm, careful. “It hurt me too.”Her breath shuddered, and she leaned into me, just slightly. Enough to tell me she understood. Enough to remind me why i endured the storm in silence. We were both trapped in an impossible balance. And yet, standing there together, I swore I would find a way to tip it back in our favor.

Amelia

The next day the tension still lingered between us, but it softened in quiet ways. After council meetings, Richard suggested a walk through the Haven’s outer gardens, what little had been salvaged before the last war. The gravel crunched under our boots, lanterns swaying in the evening breeze. For once, no one followed, no cameras, no guards pretending not to listen.

“I hate that she can reach you like that,” Richard admitted finally, his hands clasped behind his back. “Jenny knows exactly where to strike, and I make it worse by holding still.”

1 brushed my fingers along the hedge, letting the cool leaves ground me. “You’re not the only one she strikes. But you’re the one who can’t flinch, or the whole kingdom thinks it means something. I don’t envy you for that.”

He stopped, turning toward me. His face looked older in the lamplight, the hard lines around his eyes deepening. “You deserved better than my silence.”

“And you deserved better than her cruelty,” I replied. “Maybe we’re both just learning to live with less than we deserve.”

His eyes softened. He reached out, finally taking my hand. The warmth of it settled something inside me. For all the battles and betrayals, we still found each other in the quiet, where no one else could interfere.

For the first time since the dock, I felt steady again, anchored by him, even if the storm was still raging outside.

We walked slowly, speaking in fragments, not about politics or Jennyor the war but about smaller things, what food we missed most from before the fighting, the little quirks of the Haven’s staff that made us laugh. It wasn’t much, but it was ours. And as the lanterns flickered against the dark, I realized that even in the worst storms, we could still carve out moments like this, moments that felt almost like peace.