One

“Scrub harder, girl, or I’ll have you licking the floors clean!”

The head omega’s voice rang through the kitchen, sharp enough to make my head throb.

I clenched my jaw and kept scrubbing. “It’s already clean,” I muttered under my breath, too low for her to hear—or so I thought. “Unless you’d prefer I polish the grime into art.”

Her shadow fell over me.

“What was that?”

Before I could rise, she snatched a wooden spoon from the counter and struck my shoulder. Pain shot down my arm, but I refused to cry out. Omegas didn’t fight back. We endured.

“You’ll start over,” she snarled, her lip curling. Then she kicked my bucket over, sending filthy water spilling across the tiles and soaking the hem of my skirt. “And this time, you’ll keep that smart mouth shut.”

I wanted to slam the brush into her face and grind her teeth into the floor, but I stayed still. I had to.

I was living disguised as an omega, pretending to be powerless.

Because if anyone discovered the truth, they wouldn’t just punish me. They would kill me.

Beneath the damp fabric of my dress, my hand moved to my chest. Hidden under layers of rough cloth was the mark that condemned me. Three interlocking scars, faint now but unmistakable. The triple mark.

It branded me as a female fated for three mates, a living echo of the ancient curse. And in this pack, a woman with such a bond was an abomination. If they saw it, they would burn me alive before the mating moon rose and sealed my fate forever.

So I scrubbed, bowed my head, and let them believe I was nothing.

The kitchen door slammed open. Another omega stumbled in, panting. “The guests have arrived,” she gasped. “Alpha Garrith wants every omega in the main hall to serve drinks immediately.”

The head maid’s glare snapped toward me. “Lira, you’re not finished, but you’ll serve. Wash your face and try to look less like a pig.”

“Yes, Mistress.” My voice was steady, even though my insides trembled.

I pushed myself to my feet, my legs shaky from hours of kneeling. I splashed cold water on my face, scraped my tangled hair into a knot, and changed into a clean dress that still smelled faintly of lye.

“Who are these guests?” I whispered to the other omega as we slipped into the corridor.

“No idea,” she whispered back. “But I heard they’re powerful Alphas.”

My stomach tightened. Powerful usually meant dangerous.

The ache in my chest flared again. It had been getting worse each day as the mating moon drew closer. In ten nights, every unmated wolf in the pack would be consumed by instinct, desperate to find their fated mates. 

My plan was simple: lock myself in my room and drink enough sleeping draughts to knock out a bear.

Tonight, I just needed to stay invisible.

The main hall was crowded with nobles in bright gowns and fine coats. Elders sat at the high table, while visiting alphas dominated the room with their presence.

Three identical Alphas stood apart from the rest.

They were tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in rich fabrics that screamed wealth and power. Even across the room, their presence pressed against my skin. 

Everyone knew their reputation well enough. The Wild Fang triplets. The most feared Alphas in the North.

I lowered my head and slipped through the crowd, balancing a tray of drinks, careful not to meet anyone’s eyes. If I stayed quiet, I would survive this night.

But fate is never so kind.

As I passed, one of the triplets reached for a goblet. His fingers brushed mine.

Lightning shot through me. My breath caught as burning heat spread across my chest where the mark was hidden.

His gray eyes snapped to mine, pupils widening in shock. “What the hell was that?” he muttered, low enough for only me to hear.

I stumbled back, dizzy from the heady scent of pine clinging to him. My tray wobbled in my hands.

Another chair scraped behind me.

The second brother rose. His dark hair was longer, his movements smooth and dangerous. His gaze locked on me with a hunger that stole the air from my lungs. “You,” he said, his voice quiet but commanding. “Come here.”

The first Alpha’s grip tightened on my fingers, holding me in place.

The head maid was watching from the corner, suspicion already sharpening her eyes.

Then another scent drifted toward me—rich, like earth after rain.

The third brother stepped forward, even more imposing than the other two. His hair was cropped close, his jaw shadowed by a neat beard.

Together, they surrounded me, three forces closing in until I couldn’t breathe.

My wolf screamed one word over and over, drowning out everything else.

Mate.

The bond slammed into me like a storm. It struck them too. The first brother sucked in a breath, the second went utterly still, and the third’s hands curled into fists.

The curse had awoken.

If anyone realized what I was, they'd gut me and spill my blood across the hall before the mating moon rose and sealed the bond forever.

For their sake, and mine, there was only one option.

I had to disappear before dawn.

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THE ORIGIN OF THE CURSE 

Centuries ago, under a blood-red moon, a female was born with a mark no one had seen in generations.

Three interlocking symbols burned into her skin at birth, a rare sign of a bond meant for three mates. A blessing, some whispered. A curse, others feared.

When she came of age, the prophecy came alive. Three Lycan Alphas felt her call and claimed her together. Brothers bound by blood, power, and now desire. Through her, they forged an unbreakable alliance.

For a time, the realm thrived. Peace rules the land. And at the center of it all, she was their queen, their lover, their mate.

They worshipped her with devotion, meeting her every need. With each touch, she gave them strength, and in return, they filled her nights with such fierce passion that she burned for them as much as they burned for her.

But jealousy crept in like poison. The brothers’ arguments turned to snarls, then to blood. Each demanded more of her, more of the bond, until even she began to break beneath the weight of their obsession.

When the blood moon rose again, it rose over ruin.

The brothers turned on one another, and their war set the realm on fire. Villages burned, cities drowned in screams, and in the final battle, the woman they had once sworn to protect was caught in their rage.

When dawn came, she lay lifeless at their feet—torn apart by the very hands that once adored her.

Grief twisted the brothers into monsters. From that day forward, the triple mark was declared forbidden.

Any girl born with it would be hunted down and killed before the curse could rise again.

For centuries, no such mark appeared.

The tale faded, becoming nothing more than a story to frighten children.

Until now.

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