FATED TO FOUR ALPHAS

Elena

"By my authority as Alpha of the Crest, I, Kieran Smith, break your bonds. Elena Pearl, you are banished. You no longer bear our mark, nor our protection."

The words sliced through the air like iron through flesh. Instantly, a violent, tearing agony ripped through my chest. It felt as though a warm thread inside my soul was being pulled and snapped by raw force. My knees gave out, hitting the slick stone floor of the council chamber. The invisible tether connecting me to every heart in the pack disintegrated, leaving behind a cold, hollow abyss.

I was a rogue. Cast out. Unowned.

Rain lashed through the open archways as I lifted my tear-blinded eyes toward the dais. My stepsister, Patricia, stood beside him, her fingers laced through his, wearing a crown of white orchids. Tradition was an unforgiving beast in the Crest pack: when an Alpha claims his mate, every other female from the mate's line must be exiled to prevent competing bloodlines.

"Kieran, please!" My voice cracked as I dragged myself forward on my elbows, the stone scraping skin from my palms. "You don't understand—it's a mistake! Look at me!"

Nobody moved. Nobody looked at me with anything resembling pity.

It was a monstrous lie. Patricia was not his mate. I was.

*

The sharp ring of my alarm shattered the nightmare, pulling me back into the cold reality of my bedroom.

I sat up, breathless, my eyes immediately drifting to the brass calendar on my desk. October 14th. My eighteenth birthday. I pulled my worn leather notebook from under my mattress and unclipped the pen, tracing the lines of the page without writing a word.

I swore I would never keep a journal again after what happened at the Pack Academy five years ago. Patricia had broken into my room, stolen my notebook, and handed it to the high-ranking students during assembly—a room filled exclusively with the heirs of Alphas and Betas from three neighboring territories.

I could still hear the echo of her voice echoing through the grand hall as she read my private entry aloud:

"I think Alpha Kieran looked at me today during the crest ceremony. Goddess above, if you are listening, let him be my true mate when I turn eighteen."

The memory burned like acid. The room had exploded into ruthless taunts.

"Look at the little stray thinking she's fit for an Alpha!"

"She's a Beta's bastard, she isn't fit to sweep his hall!"

They hadn't stopped at words. Three of Patricia’s followers had cornered me behind the training arena later that afternoon, slamming me into the brick wall and kicking my ribs until I couldn't breathe. I never went back to the academy after that day.

Sighing, I closed the notebook and pushed myself out of bed. Even though my father was the pack's Beta, my position in this manor was lower than the lowest Omega. Patricia’s mother had made sure of that from the day my own mother passed away.

Today was Patricia’s birthday, too. A double birth, a shared date, but two entirely different lives. While the household prepared a feast for her, I was expected to clean the east wing before sunrise.

I made my way down to the scullery, filling a bucket with soapy water and grabbing a scrub brush. As I dropped to my knees to scrub the marble floor of the foyer, a soft, resonant voice echoed in the back of my mind.

“Damsel, why are we washing floors when the dawn air is ripe with our destiny?”

It was Vernia, my wolf. I had shifted for the first time two nights ago, finally awakening her.

“Because if I don't finish this foyer, my father will dock the maids' pay, Vernia,” I thought back, wiping sweat from my forehead. “We have the whole night ahead of us. We can search for our mate during the evening bonfire.”

Vernia let out a low, dissatisfied huff and retreated into the quiet recesses of my mind.

"Elena."

I froze, brush in hand, and looked up. Patricia was standing at the top of the grand staircase, dressed in a sweeping silk robe. Her face was lit up with a sweet, radiant smile that made my stomach churn.

"Happy birthday, sister," she said, descending the steps with effortless grace.

I remained on the floor, stunned. Patricia hadn't called me sister in eight years, let alone wished me a happy birthday.

"Don't look so alarmed," she murmured, stopping a few feet away. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small velvet pouch tied with a golden ribbon. "I brought you something."

She held it out. As I reached up to take it, the sharp scent of crushed wintergreen and citrus washed over me—her personal scent. I took the bag carefully, half-expecting it to burst or contain something vile.

"Father agreed to let you attend the evening banquet tonight," Patricia continued, her eyes bright and wide. "I told him it was only right. You shifted, didn't you? You're a recognized female of the pack now. I want you there."

"You... spoke to Father for me?" The words felt heavy and unnatural on my tongue. Could my father really have softened? Did he finally see me as his daughter instead of an unwelcome shadow?

"Of course," she purred. "See you at seven." She turned and glided back up the stairs without another word.

Before I could process what had just happened, a senior housemaid stepped out from the side corridor, bowing her head slightly. "Ms. Elena, please come with me. We have orders to prepare you for tonight."

"What about the hall? The preparations for the feast?" I asked, looking at my bucket.

"It has been taken care of. Please, we mustn't keep the dressmakers waiting."

For the next two hours, my small, bare room was transformed. Maids washed my hair with jasmine oil, brushed out the tangles until it fell in silk waves down my back, and laced me into a floor-length dress of dark sapphire velvet. When I stood before the full-length mirror, I barely recognized the girl staring back. The dark circles under my eyes were concealed, my cheeks flushed with subtle rose, and the dress framed my frame with an elegance I had only ever seen in magazines.

Look at us, Vernia whispered, her pride radiating through my chest.

Mother, I prayed quietly, pressing a hand to my chest as I looked up at the ceiling. Maybe things are finally changing. Wish me luck.

The grand hall was filled with light, music, and the low hum of high-society pack chatter when I stepped through the heavy oak doors. High-ranking wolves from across the territory lined the perimeter, holding crystal glasses under massive chandeliers.

My eyes searched the floor until I caught sight of Patricia near the head table, holding a glass of sparkling wine. I took a deep breath, smoothing my skirt, and walked directly toward her.

"Patricia," I said softly as I reached her side.

She turned, her eyes sweeping over my dress with a strange, calculating intensity. "Elena. You cleaned up nicely."

"Thank you," I said, holding her gaze. "For the dress, and for convincing Father. I... I really appreciate it."

Patricia set her glass down on a silver tray held by a passing server. She leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear, her voice dropping to a low whisper that chilled me to the bone.

"Don't thank me yet, dear Elena," she whispered. "The real gift hasn't even arrived."

Before I could step back, a sudden, searing pain shot through my left shoulder—a sharp, burning sensation like a drop of liquid silver scalding my skin. My knee buckled, and I stumbled backward, crashing onto the marble floor as my glass shattered beside me. The room seemed to tilt, the noise of the party fading into a high-pitched ringing.

“ELENA!” Vernia roared inside my head, her voice surging with a sudden, overwhelming frenzy. “LOOK UP! HE IS HERE! OUR MATE!”

Pain coursed through my nerves, but the pull in my chest was absolute, violent, and undeniable. I forced my head up, my eyes locking onto a figure standing at the top of the hall's entrance steps.

Draped in a dark formal coat, surrounded by his guards, stood Alpha Kieran Smith. His striking amber eyes scanned the room, locking directly onto mine with a cold, terrifying intensity.