Rhea

I tugged on a pair of comfy purple shorts and a snug white long-sleeved V-neck—casual, cozy, mine. Hopefully, the Alphas wouldn’t lose their minds over my outfit. They had already dictated far too much about my life in the past twenty-four hours. They could choke on this one tiny act of defiance.

The mirror caught my reflection: silver hair damp from my shower, cheeks still pink from the heat, eyes shadowed from exhaustion I couldn’t hide. The day had chewed me up and spit me out, and all I wanted was to collapse into the silk-covered monster bed and forget the world.

But my stomach had other plans. A loud growl tore through the quiet, making me groan.

“Traitor,” I muttered at it.

Food won the argument. I grabbed my phone and texted Lila, asking if she’d help me scavenge. No way was I about to summon the staff like some spoiled Luna. It wasn’t my style, and besides—I didn’t even know where the hell they were.

Before I could even lock my screen, my door flew open.

Lila leaned in the doorway like she owned it—and, technically, she kind of did. Arms crossed, curls tumbling over one shoulder, eyes glinting with pure exasperation. “You do realize there’s a direct line to the kitchen on your bedside phone, right? You don’t need to forage like some starving peasant.” Her gaze sharpened. “And why didn’t you just ask my brothers?”

“Because I don’t need them to fetch me food,” I said flatly, shoving my feet into fluffy slip-ons. “I’m perfectly capable of raiding a kitchen on my own. You’re helping me, not them.”

Lila laughed, the sound sharp and amused. She hooked her arm through mine and dragged me into the hall like I didn’t weigh a thing. “Helping you? Please. You’re practically their queen already. The day those four let you ‘do it yourself’ is the day Ridge Storm freezes over.”

The Packhouse hallways seemed to stretch forever—vaulted ceilings painted with moon phases, silver-threaded tapestries depicting long-dead Alphas, sconces burning with enchanted flame that pulsed faintly with each step. Wards thrummed in the stone, steady as a heartbeat, brushing against my skin like invisible fingers reminding me I wasn’t alone here.

Lila filled the air with chatter about the history of the west wing, but my mind wandered.

My supposed mate bond was louder than her words—pulsing under my skin like static, pulling me toward the quads even when they weren’t in sight. Every brush of memory—Jaxon’s fingers trailing my arm, Callum’s hand gripping my jaw, Rory’s smirk, Seth’s careless touch—sparked something deep and dangerous. Four bonds. Four magnets I couldn’t push away.

And wasn’t this exactly what I’d always wanted? A mate? A forever?

Except… no one mentioned it would be four of the most unhinged Alphas in Lycandra. Four men the pack whispered about, feared, wanted. The Moon Goddess had a sick sense of humour.

And Ethan. My chest tightened. For years, I thought he was my future. Now he was with Nora, and somehow, the world hadn’t ended. Maybe I’d been in love with the comfort of him, not the truth. Still, rejection left scars, and I couldn’t shake the fear—

What if the quads saw through me, too?

I had no pack name, no legacy, no riches. Just a scholarship and a stitched blanket with my name on it. What if they realized I wasn’t enough?

“Rhea!” Lila snapped her fingers in front of my face.

I blinked and found us in the kitchen—gleaming stainless steel, granite counters, enchanted lanterns throwing soft golden light across polished floors.

“Sorry,” I muttered, yanking open the fridge and pulling out a wrapped lasagna.

“Spill,” Lila demanded, hopping onto a stool.

Ugh. I didn’t wanna dump this on her. The last thing I needed was Lila storming into battle mode on my behalf—though, let’s be real, she totally would. She was built for it, and I’d do the exact same for her. But could I really sit here and shit-talk this whole nightmare when the guys in question were her brothers? Kinda screamed betrayal.

Still… fuck it. She was my best friend. The girl who’d had my back when my parents couldn’t. The one who stood up for me, time after time, no questions asked.

If I couldn’t tell her, who the hell could I tell?

I took a deep breath, bracing myself, already picturing the warpath look that would flash across her face the second I opened my mouth.

“It’s just… everything.” I shoved the dish into the oven and leaned against the counter. “The academy is already a circus, the she-wolves glare like they’d rip me apart if they could, and everyone acts like I hit the jackpot. But what if I’m not good enough? What if they regret being mated to me? What if my being with Ethan makes them not want me? You know alphas and their meathead possessiveness.”

Her fork clattered against the counter. “Rhee. Stop.”

“No, listen.” The words tumbled out fast, raw. “I’m not rich, or powerful, or Luna material. I’m the scholarship kid. The orphan. What if they see that and—”

“Oh, for Goddess’s sake!” She smacked me upside the head.

“Hey!”

“Shut up and listen, Rhea Morgan, because I’m only saying this once.” She jabbed a finger at me, eyes blazing. “You are not a nobody. You don’t need jewels or a fucking crown to deserve my brothers. If anything, they’re the lucky ones. They should worship the ground you walk on for even breathing near them.”

“Lila—”

“No. They’ve made mistakes, but they’d never hurt you. Not if they can help it. Anyone with eyes can see how they look at you—like you’re the axis they orbit. Take your time. Make them work for it. But stop doubting yourself. You deserve this. You deserve them.”

Tears blurred my vision. Before I could stop myself, I hurled at her, hugging so hard we both toppled off the stools onto the tile.

She wheezed a laugh, untangling herself.

“No wonder Theo’s obsessed with you,” I muttered, wiping my eyes.

“Obviously.” She flipped her hair like she was on stage.

I snorted, pulling the lasagna from the oven. “And for the record, who cares if they find out about Ethan? It’s not like they’re saints. They’ll deal.”

That was when the wards flared—bright, hot, alive.

Snarls echoed down the hall.

And everything went to hell.

Seth’s POV

The second her scent hit the air, I knew.

Kitchen.

Of course, my snowflake was there—tucked into the one place she could pretend this wasn’t our house, our world.

I leaned against the doorway, stretching slow and lazily, arms crossed, smirk sharp as a blade. She sat across from Lila, the two of them bent over lasagna like they were plotting treason instead of sharing leftovers. My snowflake looked too at ease, shoulders loose, laugh soft as if she hadn’t just been claimed by four of the most dangerous bastards in Lycandra.

And that? That was the problem. Or maybe the goal. Hell if I knew anymore.

“…and for the record, who cares if they find out about Ethan? It’s not like they’re saints. They’ll deal.”

Lila noticed me first. Her fork froze midair, that mischievous grin slipping right off her face.

Then it happened.

The second the name left her mouth, the air cracked.

A growl ripped from me before I even thought about it—low, guttural, rumbling through the stone until the silver runes carved into the walls blazed to life. Wards thrummed underfoot, humming loud like they’d been waiting for an excuse to flare. The glow spilled across the counters; the sigils pulsing brighter with every ounce of dominance bleeding off us.

I wasn’t alone.

The entire kitchen shuddered with the weight of four wolves straining against human skin. Chairs scraped against the stone as the magic tightened, pressing down heavy, suffocating.

My snowflake’s spoon slipped from her fingers, clattering against the plate like a gunshot. She froze, lashes fluttering, lips parted. Her pulse fluttered in her throat, frantic. Wide eyes flicked up to me, and I watched the exact moment realization struck

Oh, snowflake.

You just fucked up.

Behind me, Rory’s laugh didn’t come. His silence was louder than any sound. Callum’s jaw set, that cold calculation sharpening the air even more. And Jax? He stepped forward, slow, controlled, predator deliberate, every line of his body promising violence.

The air thickened until it burned to breathe.

And still, she sat there, shoulders stiff, trying to look braver than her trembling fingers betrayed.

Jaxon’s POV

I stepped forward first.

One slow, controlled pace at a time, predator silent, Blaze clawing at the edges of my control. My wolf’s fury scraped down my throat like broken glass, desperate to get out, to tear through whatever name dared sit on her lips.

The kitchen felt smaller with every step. The wards carved into the stone walls flared bright, runes pulsing in time with our dominance, casting the room in a silver glow that trembled across her skin. She looked trapped in it—our light, our shadow—her chest rising too fast, too shallow.

“Who. Is. Ethan?” Callum’s voice sliced the air, cold and merciless, as if he were delivering a sentence instead of asking a question.

Lila muttered, palm dragging down her face, “Good luck, sis,” before stepping back but not leaving my sunshine alone.

I didn’t spare her a glance. My eyes never left sunshine.

Her lips parted. Her throat worked like she couldn’t swallow, like the air itself had thickened into chains.

“Did he touch you?” I asked, voice low, quiet—the kind of quiet that promised blood on the floor if her answer didn’t satisfy me.

She flinched. Not much, but enough. A twitch of her shoulders, a sharp inhale she tried to smother.

Blaze surged, snarling inside me. Mine. Not his. Never his.

Her fingers curled around the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening as if that strip of granite was the only thing keeping her upright.

Seth chuckled, but the sound was jagged, dark. “Careful, snowflake. Lying won’t end well.” His grin was sharp, cruel, and yet his eyes gleamed with hunger, not amusement.

Rory leaned back against the wall, deceptively casual, arms folded across his chest. But his jaw was tight, his wolf straining, fists flexing like he was one second away from smashing something. “Better talk, princess,” he whispered, too soft. “Because I’m already not liking the picture in my head.”

The wards hummed louder, the silver light spilling brighter across the walls, feeding off the storm brewing between us.

“Answer us,” Callum said again, softer this time, but no less dangerous. His gaze was unrelenting, the weight of his authority pressing on the room until even the fire in the hearth seemed to bow lower.

She tried. Goddess, she tried. Her chin lifted, stubborn tilt in it even as her chest heaved, even as her pulse betrayed her.

Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “He’s… no one.”

The lie hung in the air, heavy.

The runes pulsed red.

And Blaze lost his fucking mind.

Rory’s POV

I didn’t joke. Not this time.

Her silence lit me up from the inside, rage curling low and hot. Lex prowled inside me, tail lashing, teeth bared, desperate for blood. He wanted her truth, or he wanted to hunt whoever dared stain her past.

“Who is he, little Luna?” Callum pressed again. His voice dropped lower, softer, but that was the kind of soft that flayed skin from bone. Anyone who knew him knew better. That was the voice of judgment, the voice of a king delivering a verdict before the axe came down.

She swallowed hard, throat working as her hands clenched tight at her sides. “He’s… no one. It’s nothing.”

Bullshit.

The wards didn’t buy it either. The runes carved into the stone walls glowed hotter, their silver pulse shifting toward red, feeding on the lie. The air itself turned heavy, thick enough to choke.

Jax’s growl rolled through the room, deep and jagged, rattling the glass in the cupboards until they shivered on their hinges. Blaze pressed hard against his skin, demanding blood.

Seth laughed, but it was the wrong kind of laugh—low, sharp, the sound of a blade being unsheathed. “Oh, snowflake,” he drawled, lips curved but eyes burning like wildfire. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

Her chin lifted, stubborn tilt in it, but her nails dug crescents into her palms until I could smell the faintest hint of blood. She was shaking—so faintly most wouldn’t notice—but I saw it. Felt it. That defiance, that fight, yeah, I loved it. But not here. Not about this.

Lex snarled, the sound echoing in my chest, demanding we cut through her pride and force the truth out.

“Princess,” I said, my voice lower than I meant it to be, rough around the edges. “Don’t make this worse for yourself. You know we can smell a lie not to mention the blaring red moments ago.”

Her eyes darted to me, wide and bright, then back to Callum—who hadn’t moved a muscle, hadn’t raised his voice, and yet had the entire room trembling with the weight of his dominance.

“Answer us,” Callum repeated, calm as ever.

Her lips parted, breath stuttering, and for a second I thought she might finally crack. But then she dragged her shoulders back, spine straightening, chin high like she thought she could face down four Alphas and win.

“Drop it,” she said, voice unsteady but laced with venom. “He doesn’t matter.”

The kitchen roared with our wolves in unison—growls, snarls, fury vibrating the walls until the runes blazed like wildfire, until the air itself shuddered under the weight of our rage.

And in that moment, one thing was clear:

It didn’t matter who Ethan was.

We were going to find out.

And when we did, he wouldn’t be breathing for long.

Rhea’s POV

I couldn’t breathe.

The kitchen walls seemed to press in, the silver runes etched into the stone glowing brighter, pulsing in rhythm with my racing heartbeat. Each hum was like a strike against my ribs, reminding me that the wards were alive, that they fed on lies and dominance alike. The air vibrated, thick and charged, as if the house itself demanded my confession.

Their presence crushed me from every side—four wolves, four Alphas, four storms barreling down until there was no space left to hide. Their dominance didn’t just weigh on me. It burned. Crawled beneath my skin.

I tried. Goddess help me, I tried.

“He’s no one,” I whispered, voice raw, scraped thin. “Just… a boy I used to know.”

The silence that followed was worse than a growl.

“Try again.”

Two words. Jaxon’s voice—rough velvet, coiled steel. Sharp enough to cut me open without leaving a mark. His wolf’s growl threaded through the syllables, low and lethal, and it slashed down my spine like claws.

My knees threatened to buckle.

Callum’s gaze pinned me in place, steady and merciless, an Alpha’s judgment embodied. He didn’t need to raise his voice; he never did. His quiet carried more weight than thunder. “Did he ever claim you?”

The question hit like a blade, clean and surgical. My chest constricted, my pulse roaring in my ears.

“No!” My voice cracked, desperate, too high. “No, never.”

The pressure in the room eased for half a second. A breath. A reprieve.

And then Jaxon’s growl shattered it. Deep. Dark. The kind of sound that promised pain. The sound of possession.

“But you wanted him to.”

The words gutted me. My stomach plummeted, my skin going hot and cold all at once. My pulse thundered, betraying me. Heat climbed my throat, shame burning my cheeks. The truth sat heavy in the air, thick and undeniable.

And the worst part?

They all knew.

Rory’s fists curled tight at his sides, knuckles white, jaw grinding like he was seconds from snapping. His wolf prowled close, anger radiating off him in waves.

Seth leaned against the counter, smirk curving his lips but his eyes sharp, hungry. “Snowflake,” he crooned, dark amusement coating every syllable, “you really thought you could lie to us about that?”

My chest heaved. My hands shook at my sides, nails biting into my palms until I thought I might draw blood. Every part of me screamed to hold on, to fight, to keep one last shred of dignity.

But their dominance was suffocating, relentless, pinning me where I stood.

I had never felt more exposed.

Never felt more… seen.

And that terrified me most of all.