MATE

Scarlett pov

The sky had already started to dim when I woke, the light outside tinted with gold and bruised blue. I barely remembered falling asleep—only Lucian’s voice, steady and warm, and the weight of safety pulling me under.

Now I stood in his kitchen, brushing sleep from my eyes, when he walked in with a strange look on his face.

“You’re up,” he said.

“Yeah,” I murmured, stretching my arms. “I needed it.”

He nodded slowly. “You should probably change. I was going to take you to the estate. Thought we’d see what kind of storm your return stirred up.”

I gave him a look. “A storm?”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “More like whispers. People are talking. Wondering if the ghost of Scarlett Monroe really came home.”

I sighed. “Let them wonder.”

Ten minutes later, I was dressed in one of Lucian’s oversized hoodies and a pair of leggings that didn’t quite fit but worked well enough. My hair was a mess. I didn’t care.

We stepped out into the cooling air, walking down the gravel path toward the main estate. The pack hall loomed further ahead, partially hidden by trees and twilight—but the sight of all the cars parked outside stopped us cold.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Lucian’s eyes narrowed. “Something’s happening at the hall. That’s more cars than I’ve seen here in months.”

We passed a pair of omegas sweeping near the edge of the drive. One of them looked up and froze when he saw me.

“Is that…?” he whispered to the other.

Lucian stepped forward. “What’s going on?”

The taller omega blinked, fidgeting. “The Alpha inauguration. For Darius.”

I went still.

“What?” Lucian’s voice was sharp.

“Alpha Reyes—he’s stepping down,” the omega said quickly. “Darius is being named Alpha tonight. Most of the council’s inside. Even some Alphas from neighboring packs came. They announced it a few days ago.”

Lucian’s jaw was clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack.

The omegas looked nervously between us and quickly hurried away.

I turned to Lucian. “They planned this behind our backs.”

“They didn’t just plan it,” he growled. “They hid it.”

I could feel my pulse in my throat as I turned my gaze to the pack hall in the distance, where faint music and the echo of voices spilled out into the night.

“We’re going,” I said.

Lucian looked at me. “Scarlett—”

“We’re going.”

We walked through the wide front doors like ghosts, slipping past guards who were too distracted by the guests to stop us.The hall reeked of roasted venison and spiced wine, the clatter of silverware grating like a challenge, chandeliers glittering overhead. Dozens of guests in fine clothes mingled and murmured. Familiar faces turned. Eyes widened. Gasps echoed like gunfire.

The prodigal disgrace had returned.

Whispers erupted, not just about my presence—but about what it meant. And then we saw him.

Darius stood near the dais, dressed in black and gold, his signature smirk firmly in place. Kael flanked him, stoic in a crisp formal jacket. Alpha Reyes stood at the center of the platform, speaking with a few neighboring Alphas. At least five packs were represented—Redriver, Hollow Fang, Nightshade, Ashborn, and Timberclaw. The entire region had shown up.

The moment Alpha Reyes spotted us, the blood drained from his face.

“Scarlett,” Lucian said lowly, “we don’t have to do this now.”

I stepped forward, ignoring him. The crowd parted as I passed, too stunned or too curious to stop me.

Alpha Reyes turned as I approached the platform, his eyes locking on mine.

You weren’t invited,” he said.

I raised my chin. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Kael’s eyes flickered with guilt. Darius just smiled.

“Tonight is a sacred night,” Alpha Reyes said, voice low and tight. “We will not start a scene.”

“Then explain it to me,” I said, loud enough for nearby guests to hear. “Explain how the pack law changed while I was gone. Because last I checked, the title of Alpha passes through blood. Through the Monroe line. Not yours.”

“Scarlett—” Kael stepped forward.

I cut him off. “And Darius isn’t Monroe blood. He’s yours, Reyes. A Montclair. He has no claim to this pack.”

The murmurs around us grew louder.

Alpha Reyes’ face tightened. “You lost your right to speak the moment you were convicted.”

“And you lost yours when you betrayed my mother’s legacy,” I snapped. “She ruled beside my father. This was her pack as much as his. That makes me the rightful heir—not Darius.”

Darius scoffed, voice dripping with mockery. “You think anyone will follow a disgraced convict just because of a name?”

“I think they’ll follow the laws we all swore to uphold,” I said, voice rising. “And more than that—our sacred traditions. This isn’t just about bloodlines, Darius. It’s about the will of the Moon Goddess. No one becomes Alpha without her blessing. You can dress up in fine clothes and throw a celebration, but you weren’t chosen. You weren’t marked.”

A hush fell over the room.

“You think claiming power makes you worthy, Power taken is not power earned. Even a mutt knows that.” I continued, eyes locked on Reyes now. “But you’re just a placeholder. That’s all you ever were. And he—” I looked to Darius “—can only rule if the Moon Goddess chose him. And she didn’t.”

Gasps echoed from the crowd. Guests shifted uncomfortably. Even the other Alphas exchanged wary glances.

Darius stepped forward, eyes cold. “Are you saying I’m not worthy?”

“I’m saying you’re not chosen,” I said evenly. “And that means you can’t wear the crown of this pack.”

Darius’s eyes darkened. His jaw flexed as if he were holding back a growl. “You speak of sacred rites like they mean something coming from you.”

I didn’t flinch. “They mean everything. This pack was built on tradition—on blood and divine choice. Not politics. Not manipulation.”

“You lost the right to call on tradition when you abandoned this pack,” he sneered.

“I didn’t abandon it,” I said, stepping closer to him. “I was ripped from it. Framed. Imprisoned. You think we forgot how conveniently I disappeared the moment I became a threat?”

Alpha Reyes’s voice boomed, cutting through the tension. “Enough. This isn’t the time—”

“Then when?” I challenged. “Because clearly, no one saw fit to tell the rightful heirs what was going on. You announced an inauguration without informing your own children. Without a council vote. Without a ritual. You broke every law our ancestors bled to write.”

A few elders in the crowd nodded subtly. Someone murmured, “She’s not wrong.”

Reyes’s nostrils flared. “You were stripped of your birthright the day you were found guilty.”

“Found guilty by whose hands?” Lucian stepped forward now, voice sharp. “Yours? Darius’s? The council you control?”

Alpha Reyes turned to him, voice like ice. “You’re treading dangerous ground.”

“No,” I said firmly, “you are. Because by law, only those chosen by the Moon Goddess and born of the Alpha bloodline can take the title. Darius is neither. His name carries no divine weight, no sacred mark. And if you crown him tonight, it won’t be a ceremony—it’ll be a coup.”

The room fell dead silent.

Even the other Alphas from neighboring packs seemed unsure now, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. One of them—a graying man with sharp eyes—rose slowly from his chair.

“Alpha Reyes,” he said, voice steady, “is it true the Monroe heirs were not informed of the succession? That the sacred rites were not followed?”

Reyes’s lips pressed together. “Scarlett forfeited her place,and she is too young, too reckless—”

Age and experience are council matters,” the Alpha interrupted. “Not yours to decide alone. If the rites were skipped and the bloodline bypassed… this inauguration is invalid.”

More murmurs. More shifting.

Darius’s face was red with fury. “You’d all rather follow a washed-up traitor?”

“No,” I said calmly, “they’d rather follow the truth. Something you wouldn’t recognize if it hit you in the face.”

He lunged.

Lucian moved faster, stepping in front of me and shoving Darius back with a hard shoulder. Warriors closed in, forming a tense circle. I saw Kael move too, though I couldn’t tell if he was trying to stop the fight or join it.

Then the doors to the great hall slammed open.

The air thickened, tasting of ozone and blood. Guests  dropped their gazes instinctively-prey recognizing a predator.

The scent of pine and storm swept in, primal and commanding. All heads turned.

A man stepped inside, flanked by two towering guards draped in black and silver. He was tall—taller than even Reyes—with broad shoulders, sleek black hair, and eyes like steel. His aura was cold, ancient, and undeniable.

Gasps echoed through the room.

A Lycan.

The Lycan Prince.

He walked with purpose, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on me.

His steps slowed.

And then his eyes found mine.

A jolt ran through me—sharp, electric, almost painful. My breath caught, my heart stuttered. Something ancient stirred in my chest, something I hadn’t felt in years—recognition, terror, heat.

My wolf, long dormant, surged forward like she’d been waiting for this moment. “Mine” she whispered.

No. No, no, no.

I took a step back.

And then, voice low and thunderous, the stranger spoke:

“Mate.”

The hall dropped into silence.