Claimed by My Bestie's Alpha Daddy novel Chapter 166

By sundown, the plaza was full, packed shoulder to shoulder frem the podiums to the outer barricades, stretching from the highest viewing tiers to the stone base of the bell tower.

Tension shimmered in the air, stretched thin like a held breath just waiting to snap. Every faction had shown up.

Uniforms of every rank lined the barriers, elders in ceremonial coats took guarded positions near the central stage, and citizen volunteers clutched handheld viewers, shifting restlessly. A thin but visible crescent of press clustered near the northern arc, cameras already raised, every lens aimed straight at the stage.

The ballot boxes hadn’t even opened yet, but it already felt like something irreversible had begun. The kind of moment history would reduce to a single line, even though everyone here knew how hard it was to hold still inside it.

The guards moved with silent precision, flanking the final transport convoy. Each ballot box arrived sealed in twin-layer casings, scanned and logged before being placed beneath its assigned banner.

Wolves from allied territories stood by with clipboards and checkpoint tablets, watching every motion and verifying each seal. Layers of redundancy ensured every checkpoint was reinforced and every protocol followed.

We couldn’t afford mistakes.Richard and I stood at the base of the main stage, half-shielded by a velvet-draped screen that offered only the ittusion of privacy. Behind us, the crowd murmured, low voices, crackling comms, the occasional pop of mic feedback. My pulse thudded at the base of my throat. I could feel my heart behind my ribs, heavy and loud, like I was waiting to be struck.

Beside me, Richard glanced through the curtain. He didn’t say anything, just reached back and gave my fingers a single, firm squeeze. I squeezed back. His hand was warm and steady. Mine trembled slightly. I didn’t know if he noticed.

An Elder stepped forward before the final election speeches began. She wasn’t one of ours. Not aligned, not friendly, but not a stranger either. Clarisse. A mid-tier diplomat from the Eastern Crescent Pack. I remembered her from an old summit, ambitious, blunt, too clever to be dismissed. Her loyalty had always felt like a coin waiting to be flipped.

She climbed the stairs and stopped at the podium, lifting a small wooden box in one gloved hand.

The guards didn’t move. Clarisse turned to the crowd and spoke clearly into the live feed.

“I believe we deserve transparency before we cast our votes.”

The hush that followed felt like the air itself had vanished, the silence so total that even the flags overhead ceased their motion She opened the box.

Inside, resting on linen, was Serena’s signet ring. The Mooncut crest shimmered faintly in the light. I didn’t need her to say it. I recognized it immediately.

“This belonged to Serena,” Clarisse said. “A woman long whispered about but never confirmed. Her ring bears the same blood-seal used by the ancient royal court. Which is relevant, because Serena was not just any vampire.”

That quiet unease began shifting into something else.

“She was a vampire princess. One of the last direct descendants of the Obsidian Line, the very house that declared the first war. The woman you’ve all welcomed as her heir? Amelia? She isn’t just a hybrid. She is, by birthright, descended from the bloodline that started this entire conflict.”

The silence cracked into chaos. Murmurs turned into arguments. I could hear someone hissing at a reporter to zoom in. Clarisse didn’t flinch.

“You’ve been told this is a peace movement. But it seems some old families are just reclaiming power under a new banner.”

I felt my entire chest go hollow. It wasn’t just that Clarisse had revealed something we didn’t know. It was the way she delivered it, with just enough truth, just enough coldcertainty, to make everyone doubt everything else.

Richard stepped forward, slowly and carefully. His voice was steady, but I saw the tension at the corner of his mouth.

“That lineage does not define Amelia’s beliefs, nor the purpose of this administration. Serena defected from her court. She crossed enemy lines to protect something better. She died for it.”

I stood just behind him. Frozen. The ring, the petition, the portraits, I’d always wondered what else she was hiding. I never imagined this.

He raised a hand, and the plaza screens came alive. The restored charter, relay logs, bank transfers, the petition, but it didn’t matter. Not right away.

Clarisse’s reveal had done what it was designed to do: not to inform, but to undermine.

Richard took another breath.

They were ours now. And this time, they were quieting. I felt my chest hollow out and fill all at once. Something sacred, claimed, and unshakable rooted itself in the stillness between each toll.The stream ended with the final note.

Voting began.

Richard reached for my hand.

We walked the line of ballot boxes together, side by side, without a security detail or handlers shielding us from scrutiny or contact. Just us.

At each station, elders acknowledged us. Volunteers greeted us. A child held up a handmade ring, twine and a painted bottlecap. I knelt and thanked her as she placed it in my hand, and I held it a second longer than necessary.

Her father hovered behind her, unsure but present. His eyes met mine briefly. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look away either.

By the final box, my feet hurt. My jaw ached from holding everything in place. But something in me had finally settled.

I looked at Richard. His jaw was set, but not tight. The same calm he’d shown on stage was still there, but | knew the difference between his practiced poise and the quiet panic that sometimes lived behind his eyes. Tonight, it was gone. What replaced it was steadier, rawer. He looked at me like the ground had just stopped shaking.

This wasn’t how we planned it. But it was the truth.

We stood together beneath the lights, the bells still echoing in my bones.We hadn’t played it perfectly. We weren’t polished or unshaken. But we hadn’t backed down, either. We let them see every crack and still stood tall through it.

We weren’t just standing there as political figures; we were something more.

We were bonded, accountable, and undeniable, together not just in title, but in truth.