Claimed by My Bestie's Alpha Daddy novel Chapter 206

Richard

The council chamber was too bright, not only because of the lighting, though the overhead panels hummed with cold fluorescence, but because every face in the room was exposed. Postures stiffened under scrutiny, and expressions held the tension of anticipation. No one blinked or exhaled. Some waited for me to fail. Others, the so-called moderates, hoped I might still deliver salvation.

None of them truly understood what it would cost, and none wanted to admit they d seen it coming.

“We have confirmation that the resonance systems embedded in Bell Dominion towers have been co-opted for sleeper conditioning,” I said, holding my voice steady.” The system is active. It has already triggered multiple incidents across border towns and hybrid districts. These structures were believed dormant, but they are not.”

The room remained motionless. There were no coughs or whispers. They were hoping I was wrong, and part of me wished I was too.

Simon stepped forward and laid three sealed evidence packets on the table. Each had been cross-verified with redundancies from multiple provinces. His face was unreadable. He didn’t speak because he didn’t have to. He had already reverse-engineered the system and created the only known counteragent. His silence was the strongest confirmation we could offer.I gestured toward the wide screen at the front of the chamber. “Play the footage.”

The lights dimmed as surveillance footage lit up the wall.

A city square came into view, a vendor flipping fried dough, children laughing, a girl spinning by a fountain.

Then, the tower chimed.

In one frame, the square teemed with life. In the next, it froze. Children halted mid-step, their eyes vacant.

Pigeons moved in eerie synchrony. A toddler collapsed, and a mother screamed.

Simon’s voice came through faintly, followed by the hiss of an injector. The girl jolted, blinking rapidly as if surfacing from unconsciousness. No music accompanied the scene. There was no narration, only the toll of the bell.

When the lights returned, the air in the chamber felt sharper.

“This isn’t an isolated event,” I said. “These cases date back months, even years in some districts. Dozens of public health reports cite unexplained blackouts, memory gaps, and mid-sentence collapses. They were dismissed as unrelated or misdiagnosed, but they all correlate with Bell Dominion infrastructure.”

A councilor shifted, gripping the table so tightly that his knuckles paled. “Are you accusing the vampire aristocracy of engineering attacks against our cities?”

“I’m saying someone paid to retrofit the Dominion towerswith relays designed to hijack the nervous system,” | replied. “And I’m saying the people behind that decision were fully aware of its implications.”

A silence followed, long and brittle. Then whispers began spreading like cracks in giass.

“This is the protocol we’re enacting,” Icontinued, displaying the next file. “Phase one: dismantle att known relays within municipal systems, prioritizing high-risk areas. Phase two: install verified-safe systems designed by joint engineering teams. Phase three: identify, prosecute, and dismantle the network’s original architects. No one is above this. Not due to heritage, not due to legacy, and not due to political position.”

Another councilor cut in sharply. “This amounts to a declaration of war.”

“No,” I said, “it’s a statement of truth. And it should have been issued the first time a child collapsed under the chimes of a corrupted tower.”

The room shifted. Advisors leaned into their superiors while aides typed with sudden urgency. A sub-councilor raised her hand to an earpiece, her face drawn tight. It wasn’t full-blown panic, but it was enough. Fear had a way of clearing obstruction.

Then the relay pinged.

It came as a flicker of static on the live feed, barely noticeable, except Simon noticed. His body tensed, and heturned toward the cameraman. The boy stood frozen.

The operator was upright and unmoving, his eyes glassy and his hands locked around the camera.

Simon reached him instantly. There was a hiss as the injector delivered its dose. The boy gasped, blinking rapidly as his knees buckled slightly

The chamber erupted. Councilors leapt from their seats, and staff scattered. Panic didn’t build gradually. It struck all at once. Voices clashed, hands flew to earpieces, and orders barked across the space.

Nathan didn’t waver. “They’ve already tried. You just watched them do it. Why would they stop now?”

No one had an answer.

The session dragged. One councilor ripped off their mic in protest. Another sat with their head down, tears gathering silently behind a folder. Promises blurred into denials. Threats were cloaked as questions. I remained in my seat, eyes forward, already running the numbers in my head.Because I knew the cost. I had begun to tally it long before today.

That night, Ishut off every screen. I declined the debrief. I didn’t want intel. I didn’t want updates. I didn’t want spin.

I wanted her.

Amelia waited in my quarters, barefoot, wearing one of my shirts. When I entered, she looked at me without a word. She didn’t ask what had happened. She didn’t try to soften it.

She simply watched, and when I reached the bed, she pulled back the blanket.

I dropped my jacket to the floor and climbed in beside her.

She said nothing but wrapped her arms around me as if that would fix everything that went wrong in my day. Her fingers moved slowly through my hair, and her breath warmed my cheek.

She didn’t tell me I had done the right thing. She didn’t try to explain the world back into order. She just held me, steady and certain, as though she understood what I couldn’t say aloud.

I wanted to cry. I couldn’t. That made it worse. I buried my face against her and let the quiet beat of her heart push back against the static still ringing through me.

For a little while, I let myself believe it wasn’t too late to fix this.