Claimed by My Bestie's Alpha Daddy novel Chapter 95

“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 1 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 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.”

Richard didn’t look away from the screen. “He wants them to doubt you. He wants them to believe you were chosen out of convenience.

That your rise isn’t yours, just a benefit of proximity to power.”

The campaign dinner that night felt like walking into an arena, not a room meant for alliances and diplomacy.

We dressed in silence, the air between us heavy but shared, filled with quiet understanding. My gown shimmered like moonlight, pale blue with silver threading along the hem, the neckline modest but elegant.

Richard wore gray, not black, a deliberate choice. Less aggressive.

More human. He helped me zip the dress with steady hands and kissed the top of my head before we left, his touch soft but grounding.At the venue, everything sparkled with curated elegance. Crystal chandeliers cast fractured light across polished oak floors, and the dining tables were set with gold-edged china and deep red centerpieces. But beneath the glamour, the tension vibrated like a wire pulled too tight.

“So,” one woman asked, pausing with her wineglass halfway to her lips,

“when exactly did the relationship begin?”

Richard tensed, but I stepped forward.

“We’re not hiding anything,” I said, my voice clear and level, practiced but sincere. “But the mating bond doesn’t operate on a schedule. It happened when it happened. And we’re not rewriting the truth to appease political narratives.”

She blinked slowly, then nodded. “Bold,” she said, and sipped her wine.

Across the table, Richard gave me a look that said everything.

Gratitude. Pride. Love. It was only a glance, but it was a tether. It reminded me that I wasn’t alone in this.

The gala came later, all velvet gowns and orchestras, the music swelling as we stepped into the ballroom. I’d changed into another gown, deeper blue, heavier fabric, off the shoulder. It hugged my figure and made me feel untouchable, like armor spun from satin.