49: Theodore

I didn't wait for a response, didn't need to look back to know Elijah and Elena were following me. The mate bond pulled me forward like an invisible thread, leading me through the hotel's elegant corridors. My heart hammered against my chest, each beat carrying her name. Emma. Emma. Emma.

The plush carpet muffled our footsteps as we rounded the corner to her corridor. She stood there, motionless, a few feet from her door. Her dark hair fell in waves down her back, still damp from her morning shower. Even from a distance, I could see the unnatural stillness in her posture—the frozen quality of prey sensing a predator.

"Emma," I called, my voice low and urgent.

She didn't turn, didn't respond. As I drew closer, I saw what had captured her attention so completely. On the polished wood of her hotel room door, stark crimson letters spelled out a message: "NOT OUR QUEEN."

The metallic smell hit me before I fully registered what I was seeing—blood, fresh and thick, still glistening in the hallway's soft lighting. I pulled Emma into my arms, feeling the fine tremor running through her body. Her skin was cool to the touch, her pulse a frantic rhythm against my fingertips.

"Who did this?" Elijah growled, his eyes flashing gold as he scanned the corridor. The Alpha in him was rising to the surface, protective and furious.

Emma spoke against my chest, her voice muffled but steady. "It's Gamma Jeffries' blood."

"Are you sure?" Elijah asked, his brow furrowed.

She nodded, pulling back enough to look at her brother. "Yes. Every wolf has a distinctive scent to their blood. I worked closely with him for years." Her eyes met mine, green and troubled. "Ryan Jeffries is, or judging by the amount of blood here, was Benjamin Thorne's gamma. He was my biggest supporter in that pack while I was there."

The implications crashed over me like a wave. This wasn't just a threat—it was an execution. Someone had killed a wolf for his loyalty to Emma and used his blood to send a message. I tightened my hold on her, pressing my lips to her forehead while my mind raced through the political ramifications. A dead gamma from a rival pack, a direct threat against my mate, blood spilled on neutral territory during peace negotiations—this was a diplomatic nightmare wrapped in a personal attack.

"We need to secure the scene," I said, slipping into the authoritative tone I used in court. "And we need to move Emma somewhere safe immediately."

Elijah nodded, already pulling out his phone. "I'll contact hotel security."

I opened the mental link I shared with my brother. ‘Christian, I need you with an investigative team at Emma's room now. We have a situation. Blood message, possible murder. Bring guards.’

His response was immediate. ‘On my way.’

‘Bring Nikolai and the royal guard. Tell no one else yet.’

"I want a personal bodyguard assigned to you," I told Emma, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Someone from my personal detail, trained in both Lycan and werewolf protection protocols."

"I can take care of myself," she said, but the protest sounded hollow. Her eyes kept flicking to the blood on the door.

"I know you can," I assured her. "But this isn't about your capability. This is about having layers of security until we understand what we're facing."

Elijah nodded. "He's right, Emma. I'd say the same even if you weren't—" he gestured between us, indicating our bond.

Something passed between the siblings, a lifetime of understanding distilled into a look. Finally, Emma nodded. "Fine. But I choose who it is. I need someone who won't interfere with my duties."

The concession was small, but I recognized it for what it was—Emma maintaining control where she could. "Of course. We'll review candidates together."

Hotel security arrived, their faces carefully blank as they cordoned off the area. I kept Emma close, her back against my chest, as the corridor filled with controlled chaos. Through our bond, I could feel her struggling to maintain her composure, to be the strong gamma her pack expected rather than showing the fear clawing at her insides.

"We need to know who in Benjamin's pack is still loyal to you," Elijah said quietly, his eyes never ceasing their vigilant sweep of our surroundings.

Emma tensed against me. "I didn't think any of them were. Not after I left."

"Jeffries clearly was," I said, the truth of it hanging heavy in the air between us.

The elevator at the end of the corridor opened, and Christian emerged with a small team of Lycan security officers and forensic specialists. Their efficiency was cold comfort against the warmth of Emma in my arms—alive and unharmed, for now.

"It's starting," Emma whispered, so softly I almost missed it. "Everything we feared."

I turned her to face me, tipping her chin up until her eyes met mine. "Then we'll face it together. As mates, as royals, as whatever we need to be." I touched my forehead to hers, feeling our breaths synchronize. "This changes nothing about us. It only reveals what we're up against."

The corridor around us continued to fill with security personnel, their voices a distant hum compared to the thunder of Emma's heartbeat against mine. Through our bond, I felt her fear begin to transition into something harder, more resolute—the quiet determination I'd first been drawn to.

"Let them try," she said, her fingers curling into my shirt. "I've faced worse than blood on a door."

The steel in her voice reminded me why fate had chosen her as my mate—not despite our differences, but because of them. Whatever storm was coming, we would weather it together, the King and his unlikely Queen.