Chapter 194: The Alpha’s Hidden Operation
Elara slipped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his back. Bernard caught her wrists and tried to pull her hands away, but she only tightened her hold.
Over his shoulder, she motioned toward the others.
Brooklyn and Emma exchanged a look, then quietly left the chamber.
The moment they stepped into the hallway, Brooklyn turned to Emma.
"Are you sure Evan isn’t the one blackmailing you?"
Emma shook her head. "Evan wouldn’t do that."
Brooklyn narrowed her eyes. "Let’s find out."
"How?" Emma asked.
"Call him."
Emma hesitated, then pulled out her device and dialed his number.
The call barely rang before Evan answered.
"Hey." A soft chuckle drifted through the speaker. "I thought you were joking when you said you’d come back. It was only for shopping."
"I want to see you right now," Emma said.
The line went quiet.
"Why?" He finally asked. "I’m still in Milan... are you back already?"
Emma straightened.
"Wait..." She glanced at Brooklyn. "You traveled to Milan?"
"Yeah." His laugh crackled through the speaker. "I missed you already, so I figured I’d keep an eye on you from a distance."
Brooklyn slapped a hand over her mouth and turned away, her shoulders shaking.
Emma pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Evan..." She let out a slow breath. "Was it you? Were you the one blackmailing me?"
"What?" The amusement vanished from his voice. "No. I just thought you’d disappear again without saying goodbye."
Emma closed her eyes for a second.
"I’ll be home in a few hours," Evan said.
"A few hours?" She glanced at Brooklyn. "Make it minutes."
Before he could answer, she ended the call.
The moment the line went dead, Brooklyn doubled over laughing.
"You mean Evan flew all the way to Milan just to watch you?"
Emma dropped her device onto the table and sank into a chair.
"At least now you know he’s not the mole."
Brooklyn laughed even harder.
"I told my mate some random wolf was watching us." She rubbed her temple. "Turns out it was Evan."
Emma groaned and covered her face.
"Oh, that poor guy." Brooklyn shook her head, still laughing. "He picked the wrong she-wolf to fall for."
Emma lowered her hands and shot her a look.
Brooklyn lifted both palms. "What? The guy crossed countries just to stare at you from afar. That’s a level of suffering I can’t even make fun of."
"You’ve been making fun of him for the last minute."
"And I’m not done yet."
Emma arched a brow and tilted her head.
"And who says I’m the wrong she-wolf?"
Brooklyn’s grin widened.
"Oh? So you’re admitting he fell for you?"
Emma blinked. "I didn’t say that." She looked away for a second before meeting Brooklyn’s eyes again. "You’re putting words in my mouth."
Brooklyn smirked and folded her arms.
"I didn’t have to. Your face said it for you."
She tipped her head to one side. "Come on, Emma. I’ve known you long enough to tell when you’re dodging a question."
A grin spread across her face. "So... should I take that as a yes?"
Emma rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the chair.
"Don’t start. I want to go to my mate’s chamber."
"Fine," Brooklyn said. "But don’t tell him anything yet. Let’s finish with Bernard first."
Emma held out her device.
"Take this. Lunara might send a message, and Brandon won’t be happy if he finds out. He already told me to keep her number restricted."
Brooklyn took the device and headed toward her chamber.
When Emma stepped into Brandon’s chamber, she found him sitting on the floor beside the bed, a sketchbook spread out in front of him. A paintbrush moved steadily between his fingers.
She lowered herself beside him and watched in silence.
It had been a while since she’d sat with him like this.
On the canvas, a crystal-blue lake rested between four towering mountains. Wildflowers spilled across the shoreline in splashes of color. Every stroke brought the scene to life.
Emma smiled.
"This is beautiful."
Brandon dipped his brush into a different shade and kept painting.
She studied the landscape again.
"Where is this?"
Silence answered her.
He didn’t even look up. He kept brushing paint across the canvas as if Emma wasn’t there.
She lowered her gaze to his hands and swallowed.
"Starlit, I’m sorry."
The brush never stopped moving.
She waited, hoping for a response, but the silence stretched between them.
The longer the silence lasted, the heavier her chest felt.
With a quiet sigh, she got to her feet and crossed the chamber to the closet. Her fingers slid along the hanging clothes until they stopped on a silky nightgown.
She pulled it free and held it up.
For a moment, she considered it.
Then she shook her head and hung it back.
If Brandon had wanted to look at her, he would have looked already.
Her gaze drifted toward him.
He was still bent over the painting, completely absorbed in it.
She pressed her lips together.
Then a slow smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
An idea came to her.
She knew exactly how to steal his attention from that sketchbook for at least ten seconds.
She headed to the bathchamber and took a quick shower, even though she’d already bathed earlier.
A few minutes later, she stepped out with a towel wrapped around her chest and walked to the closet. From the corner of her eye, she checked on Brandon.
He sat by the window, sketchbook in hand.
She slowed her steps, then turned as if she’d forgotten something.
His gaze lifted.
The moment their eyes met, he looked back down at his sketchbook.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
"Ken is coming back next week. Did he tell you?" she asked.
"Yeah. He told me."
His pencil never stopped moving.
She bit back a grin and turned to the closet. She slipped into her nightgown, then climbed into bed and pulled the duvet up to her shoulders.
The chamber fell quiet the moment she closed her eyes.
A few minutes later, the mattress dipped beside her.
Warm fingers found her hand beneath the covers and laced through hers.
She opened her eyes.
Brandon was already looking at her.
Neither of them spoke.
He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.
"You were trying very hard to get my attention tonight," he murmured.
Her lips curved.
"Did it work?"
A laugh rumbled in his chest.
"You know it did."
He leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers.
The smile on Emma’s face softened as she relaxed into him, letting the silence settle around them.
"Moonheart, I’m sorry I shouted at you," he murmured against her ear, his breath warm and steady as if he hadn’t just raised his voice at all.
Emma’s fingers tightened slightly in his shirt. She didn’t speak at first—just exhaled slowly, as though letting the tension leave her body with it. Then she gave a small nod.
"I won’t do it again," he added, quieter now, his lips brushing her temple as he held her a little closer.
Despite herself, her lips softened into a faint smile.
"You keep getting sweeter every day," he said, almost like a confession he couldn’t hold back.
Her eyes lifted to his then, the smile lingering.
"I love you," he said again, more certain this time, his arm tightening around her as if the words anchored him.
"I love you like crazy."
A quiet breath slipped from her, and she shook her head lightly, amused.
"Are you sure?" he asked, searching her face.
She didn’t answer with words at first. She only looked at him, then smiled and gave a small, sure nod.
That moonfall, she stayed in his arms until sleep finally pulled her under. For the first time since they had returned from Milan, her sleep came without interruption—deep, steady, unbroken.
Moonrise crept in gently, pale moonlight spilling across the chamber and warming the edges of the sheets. Emma stirred, turned slightly, and reached for the clock on the bedside table.
Eight o’clock.
From downstairs, laughter floated up through the quiet house—easy, familiar voices threading through the stillness.
She lay still for a moment, listening.
Brooklyn. Brandon. Elara.
Then she pushed herself up.
The bathchamber door clicked shut. Water ran. Steam gathered softly against the mirror. When she stepped out, she moved with quiet purpose, towel wrapped, then gone, replaced by simple clothes as she got ready.
Downstairs, she didn’t hesitate when she reached the guards at the entrance. Their presence pressed on the air, but she walked straight through it anyway.
No greetings were exchanged. Not a glance lingered. It was as if she had already taught them silence.
Inside the lounge, the warmth of conversation wrapped around the chamber. Brandon stood near the sofa, mid-laugh at something Brooklyn had said, his expression lighter than the weight he usually carried.
His device rang. He glanced at the screen and answered.
"Hold him still until you finish the investigation," he said, voice rough.
"Alright, Alpha," came the reply.
The call ended.
The moment his eyes landed on Emma, everything else seemed to pause.
"What investigation, Starlit?"
Her voice came low, steady.
He didn’t answer right away.
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