Fated to the Black Sheep Alpha

"Harder, Torin! God, yes! Right there!"

The high, shrill scream of my best friend ripped through the heavy oak door. I stood in the hallway, my legs turning to water. In my pocket, the anniversary card I had spent an hour picking out felt like a jagged piece of scrap metal. I had been so excited. Five years. We were supposed to be celebrating five years of a love I thought was unbreakable.

"Fuck me harder! Wreck me!" Twyla yelled.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow me. This had to be a nightmare. Twyla had been my closest confidante for three years. She was the one who told me this morning to wear my best dress because today was my big day.

Inside my mind, Tyra, my wolf, began to pace. She let out a low, vibrating growl that rattled my ribs. My skin felt tight, itchy with the need to shift and tear that door off its hinges. On my wrist, the silver bracelet hummed. The cool metal worked against me, dampening my power and keeping my true nature buried deep under the guise of a weak Omega.

Breathe, Raine, I told myself. Just breathe.

The rhythmic thudding of the bed frame against the wall was a steady hammer to my heart. Every crash made my stomach turn. I could smell them now. The scent of Torin’s cheap cologne mixed with Twyla’s floral perfume was suffocating.

The noise slowed down to a series of wet, heavy gasps. Twyla’s voice came again, though this time it was lower, dripping with a poisonous kind of sweetness.

"Torin, tell me the truth. Are you this wild when you sleep with that pathetic little Omega?"

The silence that followed was brief, but it felt like a lifetime. Then, Torin laughed. It wasn't the warm, boyish laugh I had fallen in love with. It was cold and sharp.

"You think I would actually waste my energy like that on her?" Torin asked. "The girl thinks I’m waiting until marriage. She’s a clueless little thing. She actually believes she’s special because I play along with her purity act."

"God, you are so much more than boyfriend material," Twyla purred. "I only feel like I'm alive when I'm with a real man like you."

Their laughter followed, a cruel, mocking sound that shattered the last of my illusions.

My hands started to shake. The tin of chocolate cookies I had spent all morning baking slipped from my fingers. It hit the floor with a loud, metallic clang, the lid popping off and sending cookies skittering across the carpet like broken coins. The smell of cocoa hit me, but it didn't smell sweet anymore. It smelled like a funeral.

Tyra let out a deafening snarl in the back of my head. She was thrashing, desperate to break the chains of the silver bracelet. Her rage was a physical heat, a liquid fire that wanted to burn Torin and Twyla to ashes.

I looked down at the runes glowing faintly on the silver band. It was the only thing keeping the world from seeing the truth. I was no Omega. I had never been one. That was the secret I had guarded since I was a child.

"When are you going to tell her?" Twyla asked inside the room. "She has no idea her perfect boyfriend has been with her best friend for years. It’s almost too easy."

Every word felt like a physical blow. Years. Not just today. Not just a mistake. This was a long-term execution of my dignity.

"Soon," Torin promised. I heard the rustle of sheets. "I just need to make sure my spot in the Vanguard pack is solid. Once Vance officially names me as his son, I’ll have the status I need. Then I can finally dump that Omega trash and be with someone who actually matters."

Five years of my life were gone. Every memory, every kiss, every promise. It was all a lie used to bridge the gap until he found something better.

My knuckles were white as I balled my hands into fists. The urge to kick that door in was almost overwhelming. I wanted to see the look on their faces. I wanted to show them exactly what "trash" looked like when it had teeth.

The heartache was a thick, heavy knot in my throat, making it hard to swallow. My instincts were screaming for blood.

But I stopped. I forced myself to take a slow, shaking breath. I am the future Alpha of the Polar Claws Pack. I am the heir to an empire that Torin couldn't even imagine in his wildest dreams. A leader does not crawl in the mud with traitors.

I turned away from the door and walked down the hall, my heels clicking softly on the floor. I pulled my phone from my bag and dialed a number I had memorized years ago.

It picked up on the second ring.

"Grandfather," I said. My voice was flat and hard, like a stone. "Call off the wedding. Stop all the preparations. It’s over."

I had planned to tell Torin everything tonight. I was going to take off the bracelet, show him my white wolf, and tell him I was the Winslow heiress. I was going to give him the world.

"Raine?" My grandfather’s voice was sharp with worry. "What happened? Talk to me, child."

"I will explain everything later," I said, my thumb hovering over the end call button. "Just handle it."

I hung up before he could argue. The moment the screen went black, a scent hit me. It was so thick and potent that it felt like a physical weight pressing against my chest. It was a mix of cedarwood and deep, smoky amber. It wasn't just a smell. It was a pull, an invisible hook that latched onto my soul and tugged.

My blood began to race. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

I followed the scent like a person possessed. I walked out of the building and down the street, my feet moving before my brain could even process where I was going. I stopped in front of a club with a neon sign that hummed in the evening air. The Neon Pulse. It was a place for the elite, owned by the Wright family. I didn't care. I pushed through the heavy front doors. The bass from the music vibrated in my teeth, and the air was thick with the smell of sweat and expensive gin. But through it all, that cedarwood scent remained clear.

I scanned the room, my eyes cutting through the flashing lights and the sea of dancing bodies. I found him in the back.

He was sitting in a dark booth, a glass of dark liquid in his hand. Even in the shadows, he looked like a king on a throne. He was tall, with shoulders that seemed to take up the entire booth. His dark hair was a mess of soft waves, and his jaw was so sharp it looked like it could draw blood. His eyes were a cold, piercing blue, and they were locked onto me.

It was Xavier Wright. Torin’s half-brother.

Tyra didn't just growl this time. She erupted.

Mate!

The word echoed in my mind with a force that made me dizzy. It wasn't a question. It was a command.

Fated mate!

I had only met Xavier a few times before I turned eighteen. Since then, I had only seen him in the news. He was the black sheep, the man associated with scandals and broken hearts.

This was a joke. Fate had to be laughing at me. How could my fated mate be the brother of the man who just destroyed me?

Xavier stood up as I approached. He moved with a predatory grace that made the hair on my arms stand up. He swirled the ice in his glass, his gaze traveling slowly down my body and back up to my face.

"If it isn't my brother's little Omega," he said, his voice a deep, rough drawl. "What are you doing in a place like this when you should be at home with him?"

"Your brother," I said, stepping into his personal space, "is currently busy with my best friend. They're making quite a mess of his bedroom."

Xavier didn't flinch. A small, dark flash of surprise crossed his eyes, but it was gone in a second. He leaned back against the table, his expression unreadable.

"And you came here because...?"

I leaned in closer. The smell of him was making my head spin. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. I wanted to forget Torin. I wanted to forget the pain and the betrayal. I wanted to replace every memory of that room with the man standing in front of me.

"One night," I whispered, my lips inches from his ear. "No strings. No promises. No tomorrow."

I started to pull back, but his hand shot out like a bolt of lightning. He caught my wrist, his thumb pressing right against the silver bracelet. He didn't let go. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

"One night," he agreed, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "I think I can help you forget he ever existed."

He didn't wait for an answer. He pulled me toward the private elevators, his hand sliding to the small of my back. When the doors closed, he didn't waste a second. He crushed his lips against mine, tasting like expensive scotch and pure, unadulterated power.

"Are you sure you're ready for what comes next, Raine?"