Mated To My Alpha And His Rival

Hannah “Danger alert! The destroyer is walking!” A loud cry echoed through the path, followed by snide laughter that seemed to come from everywhere at once. The crunch of my boots on the gravel wasn't enough to drown out the frantic thud of my heart as I made my way to the center of the pack. A crowd had gathered, busy decorating the hall for tonight's event. With my head held high, I pushed through the throng, ignoring the disapproving stares and whispered insults that grew louder with every step. "Should she even be here?" a voice hissed. "If she touches anything, it'll be ruined," someone muttered, loud enough for me to hear. I took a steadying breath, shaking off the sharp pang of disappointment. You’re used to this, Hannah. Don’t let them get to you. The comments, whether whispered or brazen, were as much a part of my life as the air I breathed. I squared my shoulders. The Alpha himself had granted me permission to attend never mind the fact that I had to beg Luna Ivy for

I ran, the mocking eyes of the crowd followed me. My feet pounded against the earth as if the rhythm could drown out my humiliation. By the time I reached Selene’s temple, I was breathless and broken. Collapsing onto the cold floor, I curled into myself, ignoring my dirt smeared dress. “Why was I so stupid?” I sobbed into the silence. “Why did I think he’d be different? Why did I confront him in front of everyone?” The memory of Prince Eamon’s rejection replayed in my mind: the cold disdain in his eyes, the way he held her as if I didn’t exist. “Why can’t he look at me like that?” I whispered to the goddess’s statue. Tears streaked my face as I cried out, “Why did you make him my mate, Selene? What have I done to deserve this? No one wants me—why was I even born?” The pain of the rejection clawed at my heart until it dulled into an ache. Hours passed, the temple’s silence mocking me. Then, guilt twisted in my gut—I’d ignored Maya’s calls as I fled. My best friend wasn’t strong,

I stood in the darkness, unmoving, for what felt like hours. The dim lighting of the cell and the irregular timing of meals had robbed me of any sense of time. Not that I cared. Luna Ivy was right. She had always been right. I had nothing. No home. No family. No friends. And now, no mate. I was alone in this cruel, unforgiving world long before I even started—and it was all my fault. The knife glinted faintly in the shadows, catching a light I couldn’t find the source of. My eyes lingered on it. Should I? Was there even a reason not to? The shadows in my heart deepened, suffocating every last spark of hope. I had done everything to hold on to what I thought was mine, only to be discarded and humiliated. I shuffled toward the knife, my bare feet scraping against the cold, hard floor. My voice broke the silence as I whispered into the void, “I was so stupid. Stupid to believe in Luna Ivy. Stupid to think Eamon would ever care for me. Was I ever worth anything?” I waited for

Hannah Branches lash against me, ripping into my skin as I push forward, running blindly through the forest. The pain burns, but I ignore it, my legs moving faster with every heartbeat. I can’t stop. I won’t stop. Eamon might be behind me. He might already be chasing me. The thought pushes me harder, even as tears blur my vision, making it harder to see the path ahead. Then I slam into something—or someone. A solid chest stops me in my tracks, and I stumble back, breathless. A cold voice, dripping with malice, cuts through the air. “Well, well... look who we have here.” Chills raced down my spine, freezing me in place. I stumble back, my heart pounding in terror as a sinister laugh fills the air. Before I can react, a strong arm snakes around my waist, locking me in place. “Who are you?” I gasp, struggling against the iron grip. My voice is straining to remain calm. “Oh, darling, don’t be so quick now,” he drawls, his tone mockingly calm. “Let me do the talking, alright

Hannah I toss and turn on the sorry excuse for a foam, Boss Sila had given me, when he guided me to the room he claimed to belong to me. “For someone bold enough to call this hellish place and empire, he sure knows how to treat his guests,” I grumbled changing positions for the umpteenth time, finally, I shot up from the bed, “Gosh who am I kidding! This is pointless.” The silence of the room greets me. To call this place a room is a long stretch from what it was—a prison. It was empty and bare only good enough to keep me until I was sold, or taken away by my new owner. The weight of the thought settles on my shoulders, pulling me down into a spiraling web of ‘had I known’ and regret. Shaking my head I push the thoughts to the back of my mind, now wasn't the time and frankly I couldn't think of when would be a perfect time. Instead, I think about my new room, my legs currently bent in an unnatural position, the pain I was feeling, and the size of the room being the cause.