Chapter 231:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

Haven Kramer POV:

I forced myself to ignore the suffocating pressure of Demetri’s closeness, to focus on the words coming out of his mouth.

“So, Arthur Baldwin, our finance minister, continues to use the lack of intense conflict with Rogues on the border as an excuse to deny increased funding to our warriors,” Demetri finished, his voice laced with cold anger.

“He wants to divert the funds to commercial projects in the Capital, projects that all have his family’s fingerprints on them.”

Classic embezzlement and cronyism. I understood immediately.

“Doesn’t anyone on the council oppose him? The head of the warriors?” I asked.

Demetri shook his head. “The warrior chief, Gideon, is a straightforward Gamma. He’s all brawn, no brain for politics. He can’t outmaneuver an old fox like Arthur. The other elders prefer to stay out of it.”

I frowned. In my past life, managing a massive medical conglomerate, I’d dealt with this exact type of problem dozens of times.

𝖲𝘢v𝖾 𝗒𝗼𝗎𝗋 f𝗮𝘷𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁e 𝘯𝘰𝘃𝗲𝗅ѕ 𝗼ո 𝗴𝘢𝘭𝘯𝗼v𝘦𝘭𝗌.𝗰𝗈𝗆

The solution was so obvious, the words came out before I could stop them. “That’s simple. He says the border conflict isn’t intense enough to warrant the funding?”

Demetri raised an eyebrow, waiting.

I was so engrossed in the problem that I forgot all about our awkward proximity. I leaned forward, closing the final inches between us, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Then, at the council meeting, you agree with him. Cut the budget.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Demetri’s face.

I pressed on. “Then, you express your ‘deep regret’ that funds are so tight. You declare that every last coin must be spent wisely. And to ensure the funds are properly allocated, you need to send your most trusted, most financially savvy person to the border to personally supervise their use.”

I looked him straight in the eye, delivering the final, critical piece. “And who could possibly be more suitable for that role than our esteemed finance minister, Arthur Baldwin, himself?”

Silence.

The word hung in the air between us. I had just finished speaking when I realized I was practically draped over the armrest of his wheelchair. Our faces were inches apart. My breath fanned across his lips.

My face exploded in heat. I shot back into my seat, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Demetri didn’t move. He just watched me, his gaze incredibly deep, scorching.

I saw his throat work as he swallowed. In the depths of his ice-blue eyes, a dark current began to swirl.

Mine.

The word wasn’t spoken. It was a roar that echoed directly in my mind, raw and guttural with primal possession. It wasn’t Demetri’s voice; it was something wilder, the voice of his inner wolf.

I froze. The mate-bond? Was this his wolf, speaking to me through our bond?

In the werewolf world, an inner wolf only made such a powerful declaration of ownership when confronting its chosen mate.

That realization sent a new wave of panic through me, far more potent than our physical closeness.

I shot to my feet. “I-I’m going to go check on how Lyle is settling in,” I stammered, before turning and fleeing the room.

I leaned against the cool wall of the hallway, my hand pressed to my chest, trying to will my heart to slow down.

.

.

.