Chapter 186: He Didn’t Argue—He Ended It
Before she could react, Brandon took the device from her. He read it once... then deleted it.
A second later, he blocked Lunara’s number. His own device followed.
Cold fear crept through Emma’s chest.
Brandon pulled her closer without a word.
She didn’t resist.
Her body slowly settled against his chest, his warmth grounding her as the fear began to loosen its grip.
She wasn’t alone.
But whatever was coming... she still didn’t know how they were going to face it.
"This is one of the reasons why Ashley didn’t want any of his pups involved in politics," Brandon said, fingers slowly threading through her hair. "He wanted us to stick with the civil matebond and forget about the throne... forget about the royal mating entirely."
His hand paused for a moment, then resumed softly.
"But don’t worry. We’ll handle it."
He tilted her chin slightly. "Since my father succeeded, we will succeed too."
Then he stood and took her hands.
"Come on. Let’s go to the beach and watch the moonset."
He smiled.
Emma tried to mirror it, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Still, the corners of her lips lifted faintly when his quiet laugh broke through the tension—warm, easy, pulling her in without effort.
They walked down to the beach.
Rows of beach huts stretched along the shore—dozens of them, glowing softly under the fading light. The smell of grilled food and mixed drinks drifted through the air.
Emma slowed as she looked around. There were more than she expected. So many wolves, so much movement.
Brandon guided her to one of the nicer huts and pulled out a wooden chair for her.
She sat down quietly, almost still, as if her body had forgotten how to relax.
"I’ll be right back," he said, kissing her hair before walking toward the counter.
Emma remained seated, trying to steady herself as the sound of the ocean moved in slow, unbothered waves behind her. The beach around her continued as if nothing had changed—voices drifting from nearby huts, glasses clinking softly, footsteps sinking into warm sand—but she felt detached from all of it, like she had been pulled slightly out of her own world.
Her device vibrated again, and this time she looked down immediately. A notification appeared on the screen, marked under social media. She hesitated for only a moment, her thumb hovering, before something unexplainable pushed her to open it.
The screen lit up, and a video began to load.
Emma’s chest tightened at once. She did not understand why her wolf reacted before her mind could process anything, but her breath caught and refused to settle. For a brief moment, she considered closing it, telling herself it was nothing she needed to see, yet her finger had already pressed play.
What appeared on the screen made her go still.
Her throat tightened painfully, and she let out a small sound she did not mean to release. It escaped her before she could stop it, fragile and broken, as her hand moved quickly to delete the video. Her movements were almost frantic, as if removing it from sight could somehow undo the fact that she had already seen it.
Before she could even exhale properly, another message arrived.
It was long, and the tone of it felt deliberate, as though every word had been placed with intention to weigh on her.
Emma read it slowly, her expression tightening with each line. Her fingers curled around the device as the words sank deeper into her awareness, no longer just text on a screen but something that felt uncomfortably close, as though the sender was standing right beside her while she read.
"You’ve seen the video now. Keep your mouth shut. Do not tell anyone about it, not even your mate.
We are many, and we are watching you.
I have eyes everywhere—your estate, the palace.
And right now, you are at the beach.
One of my eyes is there too, watching you."
Emma suddenly remembered it.
The figure she had seen earlier that day from the resting chamber, another standing near the tower parking lot. She remembered how still he had been, how he seemed to watch them for a second too long before slipping behind the parked cars as though he had never been there at all.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass she was holding, and the cold condensation against her skin did little to calm the sudden unease rising in her chest.
It could have been him. Or some wolf working for him. Either way, the thought refused to leave her.
A faint crease formed between her brows as she slowly lifted her gaze from the screen. She looked around the beach hut, then beyond it to the shoreline where people moved freely, laughing and talking without care. Nothing appeared unusual. No one was watching her. No one seemed out of place.
Yet the certainty in her chest told her otherwise.
Fear settled in more firmly now, quiet but heavy, tightening her stomach until she had to swallow.
Her device vibrated again, drawing her attention back to the screen.
A new message had appeared.
Stop looking around.
Emma froze. Her breath hitched as her eyes lingered on the words, a chill creeping down her spine.
"You’ve seen the video I sent you. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will release it online and turn myself in. It will go viral within seconds. Yes, I will be taken into custody, but your reputation and your mate’s will never recover from it.
You will taste the same humiliation your sibling went through. Worse. You will experience forms of rejection and isolation you cannot imagine.
Every wolf who once celebrated you and Brandon will turn against you.
And Brandon... will no longer be seen as the heir apparent of this kingdom."
Emma sat frozen, the message still glowing on her screen as if it had burned itself into her vision.
"You have only forty-eight hours to come and see the mating gift I prepared for your guests. If you block me again, I will release the video you just watched on the internet."
Her throat tightened.
Before she could even react, footsteps approached.
Brandon returned to the table with two glasses of strawberry whipped cream, setting them down carefully as if nothing in the world was wrong. The soft clink of glass against wood made Emma flinch more than it should have.
Her device slipped from her hand.
She bent quickly and picked it up again, her movements too fast, too stiff. She held it tighter this time, as though it might slip away and betray her on its own.
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words never came out. The warning echoed in her mind so sharply that she swallowed them back down. Instead, she closed her lips and forced herself to breathe normally, even though nothing about her felt normal anymore.
Her gaze flicked across the beach hut.
The guards stood a few feet away, still and alert. Familiar faces. Trusted faces.
Yet for the first time, doubt crept in quietly. Leonard. Maximus. Guards Brandon trusted without question. Guards she had never once had reason to doubt.
And yet now... she couldn’t help it.
Her grip tightened slightly on the device.
"Did he call you again with another number?" Brandon asked, his voice low as he studied her face.
Emma shook her head quickly, almost too quickly. Her hand lifted to her hair and scratched lightly at her scalp, pretending it itched, anything to hide the tension building in her expression.
Brandon exhaled softly, his tone steady. "Don’t worry. We’ll handle this properly when we get home."
Emma’s lips parted, then closed again. She hesitated, then spoke in a small, strained voice. "Can we just forget about the call?"
There was nothing convincing about her smile when she tried. It didn’t form properly. It didn’t reach her eyes. Her gaze kept drifting away, scanning the space around them without meaning to, searching for something she could not name.
"Alright," Brandon said simply.
He picked up a spoon and began feeding her.
Emma accepted it without protest, but the sweetness never reached her senses. The whipped cream melted on her tongue, but she barely registered the taste. Her stomach stayed tight, heavy with a fear that no food could soften, no matter how carefully he fed her.
"Moonheart, please..."
His voice was softer now, almost careful, as if he was trying not to break whatever fragile control she still had left.
Emma lifted her gaze slightly, then forced herself to speak louder than she needed to, loud enough for the guards to hear clearly.
"I want to pretend nothing happened."
Her words hung in the air.
She knew it was intentional. If some wolf was truly feeding information to the traitor, then whatever she said would reach him too. So she made sure her tone carried no fear, no weakness, nothing he could use.
"Cheer up, please," Brandon said gently.
But she didn’t respond.
Instead, she reached forward, took the spoon from his hand, and focused on the whipped cream as though it were the only thing that mattered. She ate slowly at first, then steadily, until the glass was empty. It wasn’t because she could taste it. She couldn’t. It was simply something to do with her hands, something to keep her grounded while her mind kept spinning.
When she was done, they sat back in silence.
The beach around them still looked beautiful, the sky softening as the light shifted over the water, but Emma didn’t see any of it. Her eyes kept moving, scanning without pause. To anyone watching, it might have looked like she was admiring the view, but she wasn’t.
She was looking for something she could not name.
An unknown presence. A hidden threat.
Brandon noticed. He kept watching her face, studying her quietly, as if trying to read a language she wasn’t speaking.
"Can we take a walk on the beach?" he asked, reaching for her hand and holding it firmly.
Emma’s body trembled slightly. She lowered her head.
"I want to go back to our resting chamber," she murmured.
Brandon stood without hesitation, still holding her hand as he guided her up. His guards followed a few steps behind, unhurried but present.
After a few seconds of walking, Emma’s grip tightened slightly.
"Please..." she said under her breath, almost breaking. "I want them to stop following us."
"Why?" he asked calmly, his hand still wrapped around hers.
"Nothing," Emma said quickly, too quickly. Her eyes didn’t stay on his face. "I don’t trust them."
Brandon slowed his steps. "Since when did you start distrusting them?"
"Today."
He frowned slightly. "What did they do?"
Emma hesitated. Her throat worked as she swallowed, as if the words themselves were dangerous. Then she looked up at him.
"Have you ever thought they might be spying on us?"
Brandon stopped completely this time. His grip on her hand did not loosen, but his expression shifted—steady, controlled, almost unreadable.
"I trust them completely," he said.
That answer hit her harder than she expected.
Frustration rose in her chest, sharp and immediate, because she could not say what she had seen. She could not explain the video, the message, the warning without exposing everything, without making it worse, without triggering whatever chain reaction the sender was waiting for.
And worse, she knew Brandon. She knew he would act. Immediately. Decisively. And that could be exactly what the traitor wanted.
Her silence must have shown on her face.
"Moonheart," Brandon continued, his tone softening slightly, "when Lunara and her father hired an assassin, one of them took a bullet for you. He protected you with his life. He was ready to die right there. I’ve been with them for winters. I know what they are capable of. I even know what goes through their minds."
Emma’s fingers tightened around his hand at the mention of Lunara.
Her gaze dropped for a moment, conflicted, trapped between fear and trust that no longer felt stable.
She stayed silent all the way to the elevator, her mind spinning.
"It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t..."
She never finished.
Her device vibrated sharply in her palm.
And the warning returned—cold, immediate, undeniable.
