9: Theodore

The champagne in my glass had gone flat, forgotten in the wake of our conversation. Emma's earlier tension had gradually eased as we spoke, though wariness still lingered in the corners of her eyes, in the careful distance she maintained between us. Even now, as she leaned against the bar, her posture suggested readiness—to flee or fight, I couldn't be certain. The protective instinct that had surged within me when Bennett spoke to her disrespectfully still smoldered beneath my composed exterior.

"Emma," I said, my voice pitched low for her ears alone, "about what you mentioned regarding Blue Mountain Pack..."

Her eyes flicked to mine, instantly alert. "Yes?"

"Were there other packs affected by that earthquake who didn't receive the promised aid? Other situations I should know about?"

She hesitated, her gaze sweeping the ballroom as if assessing who might overhear. The marble bar between us gleamed under chandeliers that spilled golden light across her features, casting shadows that emphasized the elegant lines of her face. When she looked back at me, determination had replaced caution.

"Yes," she said simply. "Several."

Something cold settled in my stomach. "Tell me."

"Blood Moon was lucky," she began, rotating her glass slowly between her fingers. "We had structural damage to our southern boundary buildings, but nothing catastrophic. Elijah had set aside emergency funds after the flash floods three years ago, so we could manage the repairs ourselves."

I nodded, noting how her voice softened when she mentioned her brother. The bond between them was evident, the kind of familial loyalty that formed the backbone of healthy pack structures.

"Some weren't so fortunate," she continued. "The Eclipse Moon Pack was hit hardest. Their territory sits on the fault line, and they lost nearly forty percent of their dwellings. Their hunting lodge, pack house, and most of the eastern residential area were destroyed."

My jaw tightened. Eclipse Moon was a smaller pack, with limited resources but a proud heritage. Their Alpha, Donovan, had attended several of my early integration initiatives, showing cautious support for my reforms despite pressure from more traditional werewolf leaders.

"Did they request aid?" I asked, though I already suspected the answer.

Emma's eyes met mine directly. "They did. Alpha Donovan submitted all the required documentation through proper channels. They were initially told funds would be forthcoming."

"But they weren't."

She shook her head. "They received a letter three weeks later. 'Due to budgetary constraints and reassessment of priorities,' I believe was the phrasing."

The bureaucratic language—so familiar from countless council meetings—felt like acid on my tongue. I knew exactly which department head would have drafted such a response.

"Eclipse Moon has had members staying with us at Blood Moon for months now," Emma added, her voice carrying an undercurrent of controlled emotion. "Three families with cubs. We've absorbed them into our pack temporarily, but they want to go home. Only there's no home to return to."

My fingers tightened around my glass, the pressure threatening its integrity. "These wolves—they're still displaced? After all this time?"

She nodded. "Alpha Donovan has been trying to rebuild with volunteer labour from neighbouring packs, but materials are expensive, and winter set construction back significantly."

Heat built within me, a burning rage at this betrayal of my explicit directives. Not just Bennett, then. The corruption ran deeper, spread further. While I'd been focused on diplomatic initiatives and legislative reforms, my own administration had been systematically undermining the very principles I was fighting to establish.

"Who else?" I asked, my voice emerging rougher than intended.

"Pine Ridge received partial funding, about thirty percent of what was approved. Silver Lake got nothing despite losing their entire medical facility. Crescent Valley's Alpha nearly challenged the messenger who told them their request was denied." Emma recited the list methodically, like a battle report. "In total, seven packs requested aid. Two received the full amount, three received partial payments, and two were denied completely."

I felt my face harden, muscles clenching against the tide of fury that threatened to overwhelm my carefully maintained composure. My Lycan surged forward, growling at the dishonour, at the suffering caused in my name. Betrayal by my own council was unforgivable, but the thought of wolves—families with cubs—homeless because of corruption within my government...

"Theo?"

Emma's voice, soft yet concerned, pulled me back. I realized I'd gone silent, my body rigid with tension. She had shifted slightly away from me, her posture more guarded than before. The scent of her unease reached me—subtle but unmistakable.

I scared her.

The realization doused my anger like ice water. This woman, my mate, who had already suffered at the hands of a violent partner, was now watching me struggle to control my rage. Whatever she saw in my face had triggered her caution response, reminding her of past dangers. Shame flooded me, mixing uncomfortably with the lingering anger.

With deliberate effort, I relaxed my shoulders, unclenched my jaw, and set my glass down gently on the bar. I drew a long, measured breath, focusing on slowing my heartbeat.

"I apologise," I said quietly. "Not for my anger, but for how I expressed it."

Emma's posture remained cautious, but curiosity flickered across her features. "You don't have to apologise for being angry. It's justified."

"Perhaps," I conceded. "But I never want my emotions to make you uncomfortable."

Understanding dawned in her eyes. "You noticed I stepped back."

"I did."

She studied me for a moment, then relaxed slightly, her finger resuming its path around the rim of her glass. "Most people don't notice when I do that."

"I'm not most people," I replied simply.

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. "No, I suppose you're not."

I signaled to the bartender for fresh drinks, giving us both a moment to reset. When our glasses had been replaced, I returned to the matter at hand, my voice purposefully calm and measured.

"I'll be addressing this situation first thing tomorrow," I said, meeting her gaze directly. "The finance team will be thoroughly audited, and emergency relief funds will be released immediately to affected packs."

"Just like that?" There was no challenge in her question, merely curiosity.

"Just like that," I confirmed. "The purpose of the Crown's emergency fund is to support our people in times of crisis—not to refurbish council chambers or benefit one species over the other."

Emma gave me a small, tentative smile that warmed something deep within me. "That would be appreciated. By a lot of wolves."

The simple approval in her voice meant more than she could possibly know. My animal preened at having pleased our mate, even in this small way.

"I know there's been historical... friction... between Lycans and werewolves," I acknowledged. "But natural disasters don't discriminate between species. Neither should aid distribution."

She took a sip of her wine, considering me over the rim of her glass. "That's not how it's always worked in practice."

"No," I agreed. "But it's how it will work going forward."

"Furniture does look nice, though," she said, the faintest hint of teasing in her voice.

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. "Quite nice. But I find I can sign decrees just as effectively on a battered old desk as on a new one."

Her laugh was brief but genuine, the sound of it sliding through me like warm honey. I wanted to hear it again, to be the cause of it again.