Jaxon

As we stalked down the hall toward the dining room, my wolf wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Every step, every breath, Blaze was pacing, snarling, his fury scraping the inside of my skull raw.

Not at her fear.

Not at her tears.

At the way she’d looked me dead in the eye and called me Alpha—mocking.

Alpha.

Like it was an insult. Like it wasn’t a title, the entire realm bent to.

‘She’s testing us,’ Blaze growled, lips curled back in my head.

‘Yeah,’ I muttered darkly. My jaw ticked as her defiance replayed in my mind. The little tilt of her chin. The spark in her wide blue eyes. She was baiting me. Daring me.

‘And we’re letting her.’

Blaze snapped his jaws, furious. ‘For now.’

Because as much as it pissed me off, it lit me up in a way nothing else ever had. Every glare, every sharp little retort—fuck, every ounce of resistance in her blood made me want to tear it all down and rebuild her piece by piece until she knew exactly who she belonged to. Until she begged for what she was already fighting.

But Callum’s voice cut through my haze like always.

“We need to stay calm,” he warned, that measured Alpha tone of his carrying the weight of command.

Rory scoffed, folding his arms over his chest, his smirk sharp but his eyes deadly serious. “You pinned her to the bed less then two point five seconds ago.”

Callum’s jaw flexed, his eyes flickering, guilt bleeding through his mask for a split second. “I learned my lesson.”

Seth barked out a laugh, leaning against the wall like he wasn’t five seconds from combusting. “Did you? Because it definitely looked like you were two seconds away from—”

“Enough.” Callum’s voice cracked like a whip, sharp and final. His wolf’s dominance rolled off him in waves, forcing the rest of us into silence even as our own instincts clawed back against it.

The air went thick. Heavy. We were all fighting the same battle—wolves restless, blood fever-hot, instincts screaming to turn around, storm her room, cage her before she slipped through our fingers again.

I could still feel her heat against me. The way she’d shuddered when my lips brushed her neck.

She’d felt it.

I fucking knew she had.

And yet she’d lied.

I don’t feel anything. She had said.

My fists curled. My wolf raged. She could fight the bond, deny it, spit venom all she wanted—

But her body already betrayed her.

And sooner or later, we’d make her admit it.

Rhea’s POV

I paced the room, arms crossed tight, trying to breathe through the frustration boiling under my skin.

The Alphas—because fuck them, I was absolutely calling them that just to piss them off—were insufferable.

Move into the Packhouse?

Have a curfew?

Be chauffeured around like some helpless ornament?

I clenched my jaw, nails digging into my arms. Who the hell did they think they were?

And the worst part? It wasn’t just about control. It wasn’t just about rules or dominance. It was the way they believed it. The way every look, every word, every unspoken ounce of authority dripped with conviction—like the universe itself had carved my name next to theirs in some twisted, cosmic story I never signed up for.

That kind of certainty—bone-deep, absolute—should’ve made me feel safe. Instead, it made my skin itch.

Because me?

I didn’t feel a damn thing.

No sparks. No magnetic pull. No life-altering click that every wolf supposedly swore by when they found their mate. Just… nothing. Well to be fair I wasn’t of age yet but still.

And I wasn’t about to pretend. I wasn’t about to let myself fall into their orbit, hope again, only to end up gutted. Not after Ethan. Not after fate had already proven it didn’t give a shit about me.

A sharp knock at the door snapped me out of my spiral.

“Go away,” I called, sharper than I meant to.

The door opened anyway, because apparently boundaries didn’t exist in the Caine vocabulary.

And in strolled Rory. Smirking, unbothered, tray in hand like he was stepping into a brunch date instead of enemy territory. He had changed and was freshly showered, his black slacks were casual compared to Callum’s stiff suits, his dark green Henley clinging to lean muscle in a way that was unfair. He leaned into charm the way Callum leaned into authority—easy, cocky, calculated.

“You skipped breakfast,” he said, setting the tray on the table like he owned the place. Coffee and toast, steam curling into the air.

I lifted my chin, unimpressed. “I wasn’t hungry.”

Lie. I was starving. But I’d rather die than admit that to Mr. Smirky McStrategist.

Rory arched a brow, clearly seeing right through me. “Eat. You’ll need your energy.”

“For what?” I shot back, my voice flat. “Another round of you four steamrolling your way into my life?”

His lips curved slowly, his grey eyes glinting with that infuriating spark that said he already knew how this conversation would end. “Something like that.”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to look immune. But then my stomach betrayed me—loud, traitorous, and very obvious.

Rory’s smirk spread into a full grin. “Thought so.”

Asshole.

Still, I grabbed the coffee, because I wasn’t about to punish myself on principle. The first sip was heaven, bitter and rich, warmth sliding through me like silk.

I sighed. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Anytime, sunshine,” he said, leaning against the dresser like he had all the time in the world. His arms crossed casually, his stance relaxed, but his gaze never left me—sharp, assessing, dangerous in its own way.

The kind of dangerous that didn’t break walls down. The kind that waited, smiling, until you walked right through the open door and trapped yourself.

Callum’s POV

From the hallway, I watched Rory with Rhea through the crack in the door.

She was still bristling, arms crossed, jaw set in that stubborn tilt that made every instinct in me itch to break her defiance. But then—there it was. A flicker. A smile. So faint, most people would’ve missed it.

But I didn’t.

And it wrecked me.

I could kill for that girl.

Rip worlds apart for her.

Tear down the fucking sky if she asked me to.

Ace prowled in my head, teeth bared, snarling for us to move, to go in there and claim what was ours.

Mark her. Anchor her. Keep her where she belongs.

My grip tightened on the doorframe, nails biting into wood. Not yet.

Jax’s voice cut through my haze, low and edged. “Staring at her like that isn’t helping.”

I didn’t look away. Couldn’t. “She needs to see we’re serious.”

“Trust me,” Jax muttered, his steel gaze sharp even in the half-light of the hall. “She knows. She just doesn’t want to admit it.”

I clenched my jaw. Every muscle in my body screamed to act. “She’ll come around.”

Jax exhaled slowly, the sound closer to a growl than a breath. “She will. But if we push too hard, if we cage her before she’s ready, we’ll lose her.”

I finally dragged my eyes from Rhea and looked at him. My brother. My second. My equal in strength but not in patience. His wolf, Blaze, paced just as violently as Ace inside me, and I knew his warning wasn’t softness—it was strategy.

But losing her?

That wasn’t an option. Not for me. Not for any of us.

Ace pressed harder, snarling, and I let the weight of my voice fall like steel between us.

“She’s ours. And no one—not fate, not the Goddess Herself—is taking her away.”

Seth’s POV

I leaned against the counter, popping grapes into my mouth one by one while Jax prowled the length of the room like a goddamn caged animal. His boots scuffed the stone with every step, the wards humming faintly in response to his agitation.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” I drawled, flicking another grape in the air and catching it effortlessly.

“Not the time, Seth,” Jax snapped, his voice low, sharp, and vibrating with restraint. Blaze, his wolf, was practically bleeding out of his skin, desperate and restless.

I smirked, unbothered. “Relax. Rory’s got her eating, Callum’s already planning world domination like the overachiever he is, and you’re pacing holes in the floor. Everything’s going great.”

Jax’s eyes cut toward me, dark, wild, a storm brewing. “She needs to know the rules are non-negotiable.”

“And she will,” I said, shrugging. “But if you keep looking at her like, she’s your next meal, she’s going to bolt before we get a chance to actually claim her.”

His growl rumbled through the room, sharp enough to raise the hairs on my arms. He hated when I was right. Which, let’s be honest, was most of the time.

I tossed another grape into my mouth, chewing lazily while I grinned. “Patience, brother. The fun hasn’t even started yet.”

Rhea’s POV

I finished my coffee, and the silence with Rory was… surprisingly comfortable. He leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world, tapping his fingers against the table in an absent rhythm. Relaxed. Patient. That cocky strategist calm he wore like a second skin.

Two whole minutes of peace before the door swung open and the rest of them stormed in like a goddamn SWAT team.

Callum was in front, of course, moving with that slow, deliberate stride that made it feel like he’d already mapped out every second of this morning. With his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set, his stormy gaze scanned me like he was assessing territory he already considered his. He didn’t waste words when he finally spoke.

“Ready to go?” His tone made it clear I didn’t have a choice.

Behind him, Jaxon leaned in the doorway like he was holding himself back from tearing it off its hinges, arms braced wide, his grey eyes locked on me. Controlled violence wrapped in stillness. Even when he didn’t move, the weight of him filled the room—watchful, calculating, dangerous in a way that made my pulse trip before I could stop it.

Seth was the opposite, of course. He slid in like he owned the place, dropping himself onto the edge of the table, his grin sharp, eyes glinting with mischief. He didn’t bother with tension—he thrived on it. His knee bounced, his hand drummed against the wood, restless energy vibrating off him like he was one bad joke away from getting punched.

And Rory, smirking from his chair like he’d been expecting the chaos all along, tipped his chin toward me in that easy, infuriating way of his. Always observing, always two steps ahead, pretending he was the laidback one while plotting five different ways to outmaneuver me.

I lifted a brow, clutching my empty mug like a weapon. “Do I have a say?”

“Not really,” Jaxon smirked. His voice was low, edged with challenge, like he was daring me to fight him on it.

“Then lead the way, Alpha,” I said sweetly, my smile sharp enough to cut.

His jaw ticked.

Yeah.

I was going to make this hell for them.

Jaxon’s POV

She was taunting me.

Every sarcastic jab, every roll of her eyes, every time she spat Alpha like it burned her tongue—infuriating.

Intoxicating.

Blaze prowled just beneath my skin, claws raking, teeth bared. She thinks she can fight this, he snarled, his voice a savage echo in my skull.

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms, the urge to grab her, to pin her down, to make her see who she belonged to nearly overwhelming. My muscles thrummed with the need to act, to claim, to end this game she thought she was playing.

‘She’ll learn,’ Promised myself.

Because she might think she could fight us. She might think her sarcasm, her fire, her stubborn walls could hold back what was already written in her blood and ours.

But she was wrong.

Dead wrong.

We weren’t letting her go.

Not now.

Not ever.