Chapter 224: The Royal Heirs #45: Emma

The guest suite felt wrong… too perfect, too impersonal, like sleeping in a museum where everything gleamed with untouched newness. I'd barely slept, the twins restless without Theo's calming presence nearby, my wolf prowling beneath my skin in agitation. Breakfast had been delivered to my office at my request—an attempt to avoid the dining room where I might encounter my husband before I was ready to face him again. The pastries sat untouched on bone china, my appetite buried beneath layers of worry for Elijah and Elena. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw those text messages, words that looked right but felt wrong, like puppets dancing on invisible strings.

I cradled my cup of herbal tea between my palms, seeking warmth rather than flavour. The office felt different this morning—no longer foreign territory but a sanctuary of sorts, a place where I could exert control when everything else seemed to be spiralling beyond my grasp.

Artemis shifted restlessly beneath my skin, her golden presence agitated. Brother in danger, she insisted. Pack threatened. Must act.

"We're trying," I told her softly, one hand moving to my rounded belly where one of the twins stretched against my palm. "We're doing everything we can."

The thought of Elijah and Elena in Benjamin's clutches, or worse, in the hands of Lola's parents, sent ice through my veins. My brother, who had protected me all my life. Elena, whose gentle strength had balanced our pack so perfectly. How long had they been held? Were those texts sent under duress, with someone holding a weapon to their heads? Or something worse—something that allowed their phones to be used without their consent?

I reached for my own phone, checking yet again for any updates from Chief Simpson. Nothing. The clock on my desk showed 9:47—he would be here soon with whatever news the night had brought. I forced myself to take a bite of toast, chewing mechanically. The twins needed nourishment, even if food tasted like ashes in my mouth.

At precisely 10:00, a firm knock sounded at my door. Chief Simpson's punctuality was one of his more reassuring qualities.

"Come in," I called, straightening in my chair and trying to project a composure I didn't feel.

He entered with a respectful nod, his uniform as impeccable as always, though the shadows beneath his eyes spoke of a night as sleepless as my own. "Your Majesty."

"Please, sit," I gestured to the chair across from my desk. "Would you care for breakfast? Coffee?"

"Coffee would be welcome, Your Majesty." A flicker of gratitude crossed his weathered features. "It's been a long night."

I pressed the intercom button, requesting coffee and a fresh breakfast tray from the kitchen. "They'll bring it shortly," I said, turning my full attention to him. "Tell me what you've found."

Simpson settled into the chair, his posture military-straight despite his evident exhaustion. "We have a team approaching the Blackwood Forest location as we speak. They're moving carefully—if this is indeed a Pure Blood Coalition stronghold, we need to assess the situation before committing to any action."

"And my brother? Elena?" I couldn't keep the tremor from my voice.

"We haven't confirmed their presence yet," he said carefully. "But we're hoping to have eyes on the property within the hour. The team includes two of our best reconnaissance officers—they'll be able to gather intelligence without being detected."

One of the twins kicked sharply against my ribs, as if sensing my spike of anxiety. I pressed my hand against the spot, drawing a deep breath.

"The boxes?" I asked, redirecting to another threat that suddenly seemed abstract compared to the immediate danger to my family. "Any progress there?"

Simpson hesitated, clearly weighing how much to share. The kitchen staff arrived with his coffee and breakfast, providing a momentary reprieve from the tension. I waited until they'd left before raising an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue.

"No concrete updates on the perpetrator, unfortunately," he said, adding a precise amount of cream to his coffee. "But we did catch a partial image when reviewing security footage from the forest. The back of someone's head as they placed the box near the pond."

My heart quickened. "Can you identify them?"

"Not directly from that image alone," he admitted. "But we're running it through facial recognition systems, comparing it with other surveillance footage from around the palace and the city. If they've been seen elsewhere, we might be able to establish a pattern."

"But that's a work in progress," I finished for him, disappointment bitter on my tongue.

"Yes, Your Majesty. These things take time, especially when our suspects are being careful." He took a sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving mine. "However, we are moving forward on other fronts. Based on information gathered over the past weeks, we're conducting raids on two properties later today, locations we believe are being used by the Pure Blood Coalition for meetings and possibly training."

"Training?" I repeated, a chill running through me at the implications.

"We have reason to believe they're organizing more systematically than before," Simpson said carefully. "The attack on you wasn't an isolated incident but part of a larger strategy. These raids may help us disrupt whatever they're planning next."

Artemis growled within me, her protective rage washing through my chest in golden waves. Hunt them, she urged. End threat to pups, to pack.

"I want to be kept informed of all developments," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "Both with the raids and with the search for my brother."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Simpson inclined his head respectfully. "I'll provide another briefing this evening, regardless of what we find. Sooner if there are significant developments."

"Thank you," I said, genuine gratitude warming my voice. His straightforward honesty was a balm after Theo's well-intentioned deceptions. "I look forward to tomorrow's scheduled briefing as well."

He rose, recognising the dismissal, and bowed formally. "Until then, Your Majesty."

When the door closed behind him, I allowed my shoulders to slump, the facade of royal composure crumbling under the weight of fear for my brother. The twins shifted within me, their movements gentler now, almost comforting.

"We'll find them," I promised, both to the babies and to myself. "We'll bring them home safe."

But the words rang hollow in the quiet of my office, faith battling against the dread that had settled like lead in my stomach.