Chapter 262

Chapter 262
Nolan POV
The announcement came through my secure line just after dawn.
I listened in silence as my communications director outlined the plan, her voice crisp
and efficient as always. Dates. Format. Moderators. Security protocols. The first major debate of the election-broadcast live across the kingdom, every alpha candidate on one stage, answering directly to the people.
There would be no curated soundbites. No controlled press releases.
Just us.
I leaned back in my chair, gaze drifting to the window as she spoke. The packhouse grounds were already awake below-warriors changing shifts, staff moving between buildings, the quiet hum of a place that never.truly slept.
A stage like that was dangerous.
For anyone.
For me, it was something else entirely.
Every time I put myself in front of the press, I ran the risk of making things worse. I was never the most approachable person, and despite my best efforts, I had made situations worse with my comments on more
than one occasion.
“We believe your participation is essential,” she said carefully. “Public expectation is high. Declining would raise questions we don’t want circulating.”
I exhaled slowly. My shoulder throbbed faintly, as if reacting to the idea before I’d even voiced it.
“When?” I asked.
“Ten days.”
Not enough time to fully heal. Enough time for rumors to grow if I hesitated.
“I’ll need full security integration,” I said. “And medical clearance.”
“Of course,” she replied immediately. “We’ll coordinate with Silver Fang’s healers.”
I knew what she wasn’t saying.
This was the moment where momentum either solidified-or cracked. If I were
serious about becoming the king, I had to be willing to put myself in front of the people.
“I’ll attend,” I said finally.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Relief, thinly disguised.
“Thank you, Alpha,” she said. “We’ll release the announcement this afternoon.”
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The call ended.
I remained still for a moment, phone still in my hand, listening to the faint echo of her words.
All of the alphas. On one stage.
Rowan would be watching closely. So would Kieran. So would every elder who’d ever questioned whether I was fit to lead anything beyond my own borders.
And Ellie.
That thought settled heavier than the rest.
I was still turning the implications over in my mind when the door to my office slammed open.
“Nolan.”
I looked up sharply.
Lance stood in the doorway, breath uneven, hair still damp as if he’d come straight from training.
His usual composure was gone, replaced by something raw and unsettled that immediately put me on alert.
“What happened?” I asked, already rising from my chair.
He shut the door behind him with more force than necessary and dragged a hand through his hair.
“I need your advice,” he said bluntly. “And before you say anything-no, this isn’t about the campaign.’
“}
That narrowed it down. If Lance was voluntarily seeking my advice, especially while
he was this agitated, it must be serious.
I gestured to the chair across from my desk. “Sit.”
He didn’t. He paced instead, restless energy bleeding into the room.
“It’s Isla,” he said finally. “She’s pulling away.”
I waited.
His growing affection for Isla continued to amaze me. He’d been so angry at me for event suggesting an arranged marriage at first. Now, it seemed that he’d fallen for her already.
“She’s been… distant,” he continued, frustration creeping into his voice. “Avoiding being seen with me in public. Cutting conversations short. Acting like she’s bracing for something.”
My jaw tightened.
“And you don’t know why.”
“No,” he snapped. Then, quieter, “And that’s what’s driving me insane. She was supposed to go out with me this morning, we had a coffee date. She didn’t show. Texted me that something came up but wouldn’t say anything else.”
I folded my arms, leaning back against the edge of the desk. “Have you asked her?”
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“Yes,” he said immediately. “She keeps saying everything’s fine. That she just needs space.”
He let out a harsh laugh. “Which is usually code for ‘you’ve already screwed this up and I don’t want to explain how because you should already know what you did.””
I studied him carefully.
Lance had always been direct to the point of recklessness. If something was wrong, he confronted it head-on. Watching him flounder like this-uncertain, self-doubting- was unfamiliar.
And telling.
“What do you think you did?” I asked.
He stopped pacing, brow furrowing. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. I’ve replayed every conversation, every look, every offhand comment. I can’t find the moment where things shifted.”
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