Chapter 210 After the Gunshot

Emma did not wake all at once.

It began in fragments, as though her body had returned before her awareness was ready to follow. Sound came first, distant and muffled, like voices heard through water, followed by the slow return of weight and position, the awareness that she was no longer suspended between standing and falling but lying down somewhere firm and unfamiliar.

There was pressure on her chest.

Not pain at first, just pressure, steady and contained, as if something had taken the force that should have gone through her and held it back. Her breath returned unevenly, pulling itself into her lungs with effort, and with it came the realization that she was not moving, that she had been placed carefully rather than collapsed.

When her eyes finally opened, the world did not sharpen immediately. Light remained uncertain, broken into soft shifts across stone, and above her there were figures moving with controlled urgency, as though the chamber itself had already passed through chaos and was now trying to restore order around what remained.

Brandon was there.

His face came into focus gradually, not because he was far, but because her vision felt delayed in accepting him. He was already close, already anchored beside her, one hand steadying her shoulder while the other hovered near her wrist in a way that suggested he had been afraid to apply too much pressure, as though even reassurance might become harm if done incorrectly.

His expression was unlike anything she had ever seen. The commanding Alpha was gone, replaced by a man who looked as though he’d come terrifyingly close to losing everything.

What remained was bare and exposed, almost unrecognizable, as if something inside him had been stripped down to its quietest form.

Relief mixed with fear.

“Moonheart,” he said, and her pet name came out rougher than usual, as though he had been holding it back for too long before letting it break through. “Can you hear me?”

She tried to respond, but her throat felt dry and slow, as if speech had not fully returned to her yet. Instead, her fingers moved slightly beneath his hand, a small motion, unsteady but real. That alone seemed to change something in him. His grip tightened just enough to confirm she was there, not gone, not slipping away.

“You’re here,” he said quietly, almost under his breath, as though he was speaking to the fact itself rather than to her. “You’re actually here.”

Only then did her body begin to register what had happened. A dull ache spread across her chest, followed by the soreness of muscles that had taken more force than they could bear. Beneath it all lingered the heavy memory of the impact that had knocked her to the ground.

A deep, internal echo in her chest, not sharp enough to be injury, but heavy enough to remind her that something had struck her with force that should not have ended the way it did. Her hand drifted to the center of her chest. The skin was tender beneath the thin fabric of her healing gown, and the soreness brought everything rushing back.

The vest.

The bulletproof vest Brandon had insisted she wear after the assassination attempt. It had taken the bullet’s impact before the healers removed it.

Her breath caught slightly, not from the pain, but from the weight of understanding settling into place.

Brandon noticed immediately.

His hand tightened gently around her wrist, steady but careful. “Don’t move too quickly,” he said, his voice softer now, the urgency in it giving way to something more controlled, though not yet fully calm. “You took the full impact. You’re safe, but your body still needs time to recover.”

Safe.

The word should have been simple, but it didn’t land that way.

Emma turned her head slightly, adjusting to the space around her. The healing chamber was no longer in chaos, but it was not peaceful either. Guards stood at a distance, alert but no longer rushing. Healers moved with quiet efficiency, their presence suggesting that the immediate danger had already been handled. Everything had the stillness of something that had already broken and was now being managed after the fact.

And somewhere deeper in the chamber, she felt something missing before she even consciously searched for it.

Rivena.

Not gone in the way of absence alone, but gone like pressure released from a sealed space. The kind of absence that did not feel resolved, only removed.

“What happened…” Emma began, but her voice weakened before she could finish the sentence.

Brandon’s expression tightened slightly at the question, not in avoidance, but in the careful way people choose words when the truth is already too heavy to soften. He hesitated only for a moment before answering.

“She fired,” he said quietly. “The vest stopped it. The impact knocked you unconscious. There was no penetration.”

Emma’s hand remained pressed lightly against her chest as she processed that.

So it hadn’t been pain that took her down.

It had been a force her body couldn’t fully absorb, even though it had survived it.

The realization settled deeper now, not just that she had lived, but how close it had been to the opposite outcome, how thin the line between the two actually was.

Brandon watched her closely, as if measuring whether she was truly present or still drifting somewhere between awareness and shock.

“She said things to you,” he added more quietly after a moment. “Before she fired.”

Emma did not answer immediately. The memory did not return as a full sequence, but in fragments, Rivena’s voice, the accusation, the shift in her expression, the way everything had felt like it was tightening toward a point that could no longer hold.

Finally, Emma spoke softly, her voice steadier now but quieter than before.

“She was already gone before she pulled the trigger.”

Brandon did not correct her.

He did not need to.

His jaw tightened slightly, not in disagreement, but in recognition, as though that truth had already been understood by him in a different way long before she gave it words.

Emma’s device seemed determined to ring itself to death.

The moment news of the shooting reached the palace, calls and messages began pouring in from every direction. Elders wanted explanations, council members demanded updates, and even distant pack leaders were trying to reach someone who could tell them what had happened. Brandon endured it for nearly an hour before another call lit up the screen. He stared at the name for a moment, then took the device from Emma’s bedside table and switched it off completely.

Emma looked up from her healing bed. “You know they’re just going to keep calling.”

“They can keep calling a dead phone, then,” Brandon replied as he slipped the device into a drawer. “I’m tired of answering the same questions.”

While Emma recovered, the palace remained in chaos. Security warriors searched chambers, questioned servants, and followed every lead they could find. By the following day, enough evidence had been gathered to paint a picture that was uglier than anyone had expected.

The king, Alpha Samuel, Ashley, and several senior warriors gathered in a conference chamber as the investigation report was laid before them. The atmosphere grew heavier with each page that was turned.

“We’ve confirmed that Rivena and Damon were involved romantically,” one of the investigators explained. “The relationship had been ongoing for more than a winter.”

Ashley’s brows lifted in surprise. “More than a winter? How did nobody notice?”

“They were careful,” the investigator answered. “Most of their communication was hidden, but we’ve recovered enough messages to establish a timeline.”

As more documents were spread across the table, it became clear that the relationship was only part of the story. Their original plan had never involved murder at all. According to the messages, they had intended to use Lunara to gain access to money and eventually leave the palace to start over elsewhere.

“So what changed?” Alpha Samuel asked.

The investigator glanced down at the report before answering. “Damon’s arrest.”

No further explanation was necessary. Following Damon’s imprisonment, their messages took a darker turn. The conversations became increasingly desperate, filled with anger, frustration, and bitterness. Again and again, Emma’s name appeared throughout their exchanges.

“Rivena blamed Luna Emma for everything that happened to Damon,” the investigator said. “She believed his imprisonment was the reason her future had been taken away.”

King’s expression darkened, but he remained silent.

“The evidence suggests that the shooting was her second plan. She intended to kill Luna Emma first, then…” The investigator hesitated briefly before continuing. “Based on her messages, she believed Prince Brandon would be devastated by Luna Emma’s death. She expected him to eventually take his own life.”

The chamber became so quiet that the turning of a page sounded unusually loud.

After a moment, Ashley leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. “All this destruction because the traitors couldn’t accept reality.”

The investigator opened the final section of the report. Unlike the others, these documents were much older.

“There’s also information regarding Rivena’s background.”

Ashley looked down at the file and immediately recognized several names.

“Her father served as a palace warrior,” the investigator explained. “He was killed during the war while she was still a pup. After his death, Luna Alexandra personally took responsibility for her upbringing.”

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Everyone in the chamber knew what that meant.

Luna Alexandra had given Rivena a home when she had none. She had arranged her education, supervised her training, and eventually trusted her enough to make her second personal assistant.

Richard slowly closed the file.

“What a terrible way to repay that kindness.”

No one disagreed.

Outside the conference chamber, life in the palace continued as normal, but far below, inside a guarded cell, Rivena sat alone with the consequences of every choice she had made. Damon was already facing the dungeon, Rivena was still alive, and the future she had once imagined for herself had vanished long before she ever pulled the trigger.

“You ungrateful pup!” Luna Alexandra’s voice cracked through the lounge. “I did everything I could to make sure you had a good life. Everything. And this is how you repay me? By stabbing me in the back?”

Rivena’s eyes burned with tears. She clenched her fists at her sides.

“You did everything except let me choose for myself!” she shouted back. “You never let me follow my heart!”

Luna Alexandra took a sharp step toward her.

“All those times you said you were going to pay tribute to your father…” Her jaw tightened. “Were you meeting Damon?”

Rivena lifted her chin.

“Yes.”

The single word landed heavily between them.

“Yes, I went to see him. And you know what? You should have supported us. You supported Brandon and Elara when they found love.”

“Damon is evil!” Luna Alexandra snapped. “If it had been Darius, his twin, I would have stood beside you without hesitation.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me.” Rivena’s voice shook, but she didn’t look away. “I’m not a pup anymore.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Luna Alexandra turned sharply toward the guards.

“Take her back.”

Without another glance, she strode out of the lounge.

The doors slammed behind her.

Rivena stood frozen where she was, her chest rising and falling as the guards moved toward her.