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Four

last update Last Updated: 2025-01-09 20:40:20

Terror and desire were a toxic combination.

As the jeep tore through the streets, one part of my mind was screaming, cataloging every landmark we passed, trying to memorize a path back to my children.

The man beside me captivated the other part—the traitorous, primal part.

My wolf loved the scent of pine and cedar filling the car. She was soothed by the power radiating from my fated mate, or in this case, my kidnapper.

We left the heart of Wild Fangs behind. City blocks gave way to suburban estates. Manicured lawns and huge houses blurred into a streak of green and white as he drove with a speed that was both reckless and expertly controlled.

My thoughts jammed together.

Who the hell was this man?

Why did he believe I was his dead wife?

Why, out of all the absurd directions my life could take, did fate have to come wrapped in this much baggage?

This is our mate, my wolf whispered from the recesses of my mind. He is ours.

I wanted to scream at her, to shout that our so-called destiny felt like a cruel joke.

It was just like five years ago. No warning. No explanation. Just woke up to find that my life was no longer mine.

First, a stolen wedding. Now, a stolen identity.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed movement in the rearview mirror. The little girl had unbuckled her seatbelt and was leaning between the seats, trying to touch my hair.

The look of pure adoration in her eyes was like a physical blow. For her, today was the best day of her life.

“Please,” I said, my voice trembling as I turned to the man. “Let me go. My family is waiting for me.”

“It’s no use trying the door,” he replied calmly, his eyes never leaving the road. “It’s locked. Unless you want all of us to crash, I suggest you sit back.”

His calmness terrified me more than any threat. It was the calm of someone convinced they were right.

The little girl’s voice piped up from the back seat. “Is Mommy mad at us, Daddy?”

He glanced at me, and the look in his eyes made my skin crawl. It was a pity, the kind of pity reserved for someone considered insane.

“Mommy is just... unwell, Addy,” he said softly.

“Unwell?” I shrieked, my control snapping. “I am not unwell! I am perfectly fine, and I am not the person you think I am!”

He let out a short laugh.

That was when I realized I was talking to a wall. He wasn’t hearing me. He was hearing a version of me filtered through a story he’d already written, one where I was his traumatized, memory-wiped wife.

He didn’t speak again until he turned off the main road and drove toward a set of massive gates.

It wasn’t just an estate. It was a fortress. High walls topped with security wire enclosed the property, softened only slightly by bursts of hibiscus in bloom.

This wasn’t just wealth. It was power. Billionaire-level power.

Uniformed guards patrolled the perimeter with guns slung across their backs. Their eyes widened the moment they saw me.

“Luna,” one of them said into a radio, voice crackling. “Luna Sasha is with the Alpha. She’s home.”

Luna?

Alpha?

What the actual hell?

My blood ran cold. I wasn’t just being mistaken for someone’s wife. I was being mistaken for the Luna of what was a powerful pack.

This was no longer a kidnapping. This was an identity crisis on a scale I couldn’t even understand.

He drove us down a long driveway and pulled up in front of a mansion that looked more like a luxury resort. Before he could shut off the engine, the front doors burst open and an elderly woman rushed out.

“Oh my God! Sasha!” she cried, rushing to my side as he opened the door. She pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe. “You’re alive! By the Goddess, you’re alive!”

I flinched, recoiling. She stepped back, her joy crumbling into confusion.

“What’s wrong with her, Xavier?” she asked, turning to him.

“She’s traumatized,” he answered. “We need to call Dr. Aris.”

That was my breaking point.

I yanked my arm free from Xavier’s grip and collapsed to my knees on the marble floor.

“Please,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. “My name is Savannah. I can prove it. Let me give you my dad's number. Just listen to me.”

Xavier looked down at me with that same pitying amusement, and then he spoke softly.

“Oh, my dear wife,” he said, pulling me back to my feet and into another suffocating embrace.

This time, I couldn’t even struggle. The mate bond surged, a flood of warmth and desire so intense it robbed me of strength.

A dark thought surfaced.

What if you said yes? What if you just became Sasha?

Think of the safety. The wealth. Jermaine’s surgery would be done with no stress or debt.

I rejected the thought immediately.

This wasn’t my life.

The real Sasha was missing, maybe even dead.

How could I steal her life, no matter how desperate I was?

What if they found her?

Xavier handed me over to the elderly woman.

“Matilda will take care of you,” he said, kissing my forehead. “I need to make some calls.”

Matilda treated me with gentle care, the kind reserved for mental patients.

“There, there, dear,” she said, guiding me up the stairs. “You’ve had a terrible ordeal. Your family has been worried sick since you went missing. Your mother and grandfather will cry when they see you. A warm bath, some food, and you’ll start to feel like yourself again.”

She led me into a bedroom larger than my entire apartment. A king-sized bed stood in the center. A set of glass doors opened to a private balcony overlooking a forest.

A vanity glistened with perfumes and jewelry.

Matilda left, closing the door behind her.

I was alone.

For a split second, I considered grabbing a handful of diamond earrings. Just one or two would cover the surgery. I could run. Disappear. They were the ones who brought a stranger into their home. This would be their mistake.

But no. I couldn’t.

It felt like a test. There had to be cameras.

My eyes were scanning the room for any sign of escape when I saw it.

A portrait hung on the wall opposite the bed.

I walked toward it.

It was me.

Not a lookalike. Not someone vaguely similar.

Me.

The same dark blonde hair. The same gray eyes. Even the small mole just to the right of my nose.

I stumbled back and sat on the edge of the bed, shaking.

It wasn’t possible. I was my father’s only child. I had no sister. No twin.

And yet, the proof was hanging on the wall of a stranger’s home.

For the first time, I couldn’t blame them.

Even I would have believed I was their missing Sasha.

A new kind of fear settled into my bones.

Not the fear of being kidnapped.

The fear of something far worse.

The fear of being trapped inside another woman’s face.

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  • Fighting For The Alpha's Mark   121

    SavannahThe air inside the estate had changed.It wasn’t loud... but it was there. The staff were disrespectful to me.It showed in the careless words, the lack of courtesy, like they were tolerating my presence until someone gave the final order to toss me out.Earlier, I’d walked into the west hall and overheard two maids arguing over towels. One of them muttered something about “the other woman.”I told myself it didn’t matter. I hadn’t come this far to be shaken by maids who thought loyalty meant bowing to whoever had the older bloodline.It was late afternoon when I saw Sasha. She sat outside, facing the pool, the wheels of her chair perfectly aligned with the edge of the stone path. Her legs were covered with a silk throw.She didn’t see me. Or maybe she did and was pretending not to.I should’ve turned away. Or waited for Xavier to come back before trying to make peace. But I didn’t. My feet moved before my logic could win.She didn’t flinch when I approached. Didn’t look up.

  • Fighting For The Alpha's Mark   120

    SavannahI didn’t know why my palms were sweating. It was the kind of dread that clings to your skin. Earlier, Alpha Henry had his legs spread like the room belonged to him. Beatrice sat tall, like she was ready to step between a sword fight. Theo stared at the floor. Sasha was silent, her wheelchair turned slightly toward the window as if we didn’t matter.Xavier pulled out a chair for me. I sat, but I didn’t lean back. My spine stayed straight, palms flat on my thighs, like I needed to feel something solid under me. I told myself I was ready. That was a lie. I told myself maybe Sasha was done fighting. That was an even bigger lie.“I appreciate everyone being here,” Xavier said. His voice was calm. “I called this meeting because I want us to move forward. With clarity and respect.”But his wishes weren't granted, as Sasha was hell-bent on causing trouble.“I will not be divorcing you,” she said. Just like that. No hesitation, no preamble.She turned her head now, and her gaze locked

  • Fighting For The Alpha's Mark   119

    SavannahTwo days later, Xavier handed me the clinic referral, slipping it across the breakfast table.“You should register here. It’s closer. New facility. Less waiting.”I didn’t argue. I was too tired. The pregnancy had gotten louder. The nausea came in unpredictable waves, and the smell of eggs now made me feel homicidal. I told him I’d go that day, and he nodded.The clinic was quiet when I first walked in. The doctor introduced himself as Dr. Aris Thorne—the kind of man who didn’t need to smile too much because his voice was already soft enough to put people at ease.Early thirties, handsome, and those intelligent eyes that flicked up whenever I paused, like he was measuring more than just symptoms.He asked the right questions. Didn’t interrupt. Didn’t flinch when I said “complicated pregnancy,” and didn’t blink twice at my last name. When I told him Xavier was the father, he nodded and moved on.I liked that.I didn’t mean to start trusting him. But the follow-up appointments

  • Fighting For The Alpha's Mark   118

    SavannahIt was freezing. Not from the weather, just the kind of cold that gets under your skin when your nerves won’t sit still. I wrapped my coat tighter. Morning sickness, stress, rage all churned together like sour milk in my throat.Today was supposed to feel good. Payback. Closure. Whatever. Claire was finally in custody, locked in a holding cell under Alpha court authority. That was the only reason it happened this fast—she had messed with two Alpha houses. Xavier and Ethan. Even the council didn’t blink when she was arrested. When you frame an Alpha, especially for a scandal that risks inter-pack stability, you're not getting a slap on the wrist. You're getting a cell, and your trial happens before the ink on the complaint even dries.Still, I couldn’t stop shaking.One of Xavier’s men was driving us. Eve sat beside me, tapping something into her phone.“I swear,” Eve muttered, “If they let me get five minutes in that room, I’m giving that witch the kind of slap that rewires

  • Fighting For The Alpha's Mark   117

    SavannahI woke up with my stomach doing slow backflips, the kind that didn’t even give me time to reach the toilet. My hands gripped the cold ceramic like I was holding on to shore. I breathed through the nausea. Nothing about this pregnancy felt manageable.Something fried drifted in from the hallway. Eggs or toast, probably. I gagged.“Jermaine, can you get me some cold water, please?”He came running, wide-eyed and shirtless, holding a plastic bottle with a bite mark on the cap. Jace was right behind him.“Is the baby sick too?” Jermaine asked, trying to make sense of adult problems.“No,” I said, pausing to take a sip. “Just me. I’ll be okay.”“Daddy will fix it.”The way he said it—so sure, like Xavier was some walking solution kit—made me smile.I leaned on the counter and wiped the back of my hand over my mouth.A month ago, they didn’t even know who their father was. Now they believed in him more than cartoons.My phone buzzed. I didn’t have the strength to guess who it was,

  • Fighting For The Alpha's Mark   116

    SavannahI had been watching from the window long before they rang the bell. The physiotherapy team rolled in, wearing pressed uniforms. They always came in groups. I watched them unload the gear and found myself hoping this time it would stick.Maybe if Sasha started walking again, she'd stop throwing emotional grenades at me. Maybe half the bitterness had been hiding in her wheelchair all along.But I didn’t believe that. You can’t blame steel and rubber for a bitter heart.Through the glass, I spotted my mother pacing in Sasha’s wing. My dad was with me, scrolling on his phone, too focused to notice that his left thumb was twitching as he typed. He kept glancing toward Sasha’s corridor like he was expecting an alarm to go off.I leaned on the wall next to him. He didn’t look up.“Are you texting your soulmate?”He blinked and pulled his phone closer to his chest, like I was trying to snatch it. “Ha ha. Funny.”“Mmhmm.” I rocked back on my heels. “So... are we pretending again, or i

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