Seth

“Callum, LET HER GO! You’re scaring her!”

Lila’s voice cracked through the tension, but Callum didn’t move. He loomed over Rhea, his storm-grey suit pants still perfectly ironed despite the strain running through every line of his body. His tie was loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up, but he still looked like control personified—an Alpha carved from stone, even as his wolf snarled for dominance.

Ace-Callum’s wolf- wanted her on her knees. Scar—my wolf—wanted the same. But seeing her pressed into the mattress like that? Tears streaking her flushed cheeks?

My chest fucking ached.

“You’re going to break her, Callum,” Jax snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. He stood a step away, dark jeans and a black button-down rolled at the sleeves, his shadowy presence radiating danger. His wolf prowled beneath the surface, restrained but lethal, his gaze locked on Rhea like a predator debating whether to strike.

“Back off before she panics,” Jax bit out.

Callum growled low, the sound rumbling through the air, vibrating the silver-inlaid runes carved into the chamber walls.

“She’s terrified, man,” Rory added, his voice unusually serious. His clothes were as easy as he was—dark slacks, an untucked shirt, no tie, like he’d just walked out of a party. But his grey eyes were dead sober now, sharp and protective, tracking Rhea’s every movement. “This isn’t helping.”

For a moment, Callum didn’t move. His jaw ticked, his chest heaving with the weight of restraint. Then—finally—he pulled back. The storm in his eyes didn’t leave, but he gave her the space she needed.

The wards along the walls hummed louder, reacting to the clash of dominance in the air. The magic in the Ridge Storm Packhouse was ancient, layered with protections woven by Valorian fae centuries ago, and it didn’t like our bond flaring this hot, this fast.

Theo, ever the cautious Beta, tried to step in. “With all due respect, Alphas,” he said, his posture defensive but his voice steady, “maybe you should let Rhea explain why she doesn’t feel the bond.”

The snarl tore from all four of us at once—feral, united.

How dare he? Saying her name like he had a right to it.

Theo dropped his head instantly, throat bared, his usual polished look—the leather jacket, the fitted shirt—suddenly looking more like armour than style.

But Lila wasn’t cowed. She stepped forward, her silk dress shimmering in the firelight, eyes blazing with fury. “You didn’t even give her a chance! She’s not eighteen yet. Of course she can’t feel the mate bond.”

The words hit like a blow.

Callum froze, then turned back to Rhea. The feral dominance softened, just enough for his voice to come through rough but quiet. “Is that true, baby?”

Rhea’s blue eyes shimmered, her silver hair a wild halo around her flushed face. She didn’t speak, but she nodded, small and hesitant.

And that was it. That single motion cut me to the bone.

Because she was ours.

Even if she didn’t feel it yet, her soul already belonged to us. The Moon’s mark was carved into her very blood.

She just didn’t know it yet.

But she would. Soon.

Jaxon’s POV

Her voice was barely a whisper, soft but sharp enough to cut straight through me.

“I… I don’t know if you’re my mates. I don’t feel anything yet.”

Blaze-my wolf, snarled inside me, claws raking against my ribs.

She’s ours. She just doesn’t realize it yet.

She will, I muttered back at him, but even to my own ears, it sounded hollow.

Every muscle in my body was strung tight, rage and desperation tangling in a way that made it hard to breathe. I wanted to shake her, to demand she see us the way we saw her. But the raw panic in her blue eyes kept me rooted.

Callum dragged a hand down his face, exhaling like he’d been holding the weight of centuries on his shoulders. His dress shirt pulled tight across his broad frame, the picture of control—except for the storm in his eyes.

“Little Luna,” he murmured, his tone low but steady, steel wrapped in velvet. “There’s no doubt in our minds. We don’t lack she-wolves. But none of them—” his gaze flicked to her, fierce and unyielding—“none of them come close to you.”

Rhea flinched, and that tiny reaction shot through me like a spark. She felt it. Even if her mind denied it, her body, her soul, her wolf already knew.

Hope clawed its way up my throat.

Callum’s voice softened, though the strain in it was obvious. He only sounded like that when he was standing on the edge of losing control. “We’ll give you space tonight,” he said carefully, each word measured. “But this conversation isn’t over. No more running, Rhea.”

Her lips parted, her breath uneven. For a second, I swore she might cry, or scream, or bolt. Instead, she nodded—hesitant, trembling.

“Thank you, Alpha,” she whispered. Her voice cracked, and it nearly wrecked me. “I’d… like to rest.”

Her words hung between us, fragile but final.

My wolf growled low, furious at the idea of leaving her alone. But Callum dipped his chin once, accepting it. Rory’s jaw clenched, Seth muttered a curse under his breath, and I…

I just stared at her.

At the silver hair spilling over her shoulders. At the way the moonlight kissed her skin, soft and untouched. At the girl who had no idea she had just torn four Alphas to pieces with a single sentence.

She could pretend she didn’t feel it. She could run, lie, fight, claw against the inevitable.

But she was ours.

And this was only the beginning.

Rhea’s POV

The room was too quiet once they were gone.

Silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating, like the walls were conspiring to watch me break. My chest rose and fell too fast, and I clutched the blanket tighter, glaring at the door like it might swing back open and those four would come storming in to finish what they started.

Jaxon had lingered the longest, storm-grey eyes locked on me like he was memorizing every line, every crack. The way he looked at me—like I was already his—still burned against my skin. Arrogant bastard.

The second I was alone, the mask slipped. My composure shattered like cheap glass. My hands shook as I dragged them over my face, and the first sob tore loose before I could bite it back. Tears streaked hot down my cheeks, blurring the golden glow of the enchanted sconces.

Twenty-four hours. That’s all it took to gut my world.

First Ethan. My childhood best friend, my first love, the one I thought would always, always be mine. Taken—no, claimed—by Nora. My Nora. The best friend I trusted with every ugly piece of me. The Moon Goddess had stitched them together and left me outside, smiling like a fucking idiot while the floor cracked open under me.

And now this.

Now, apparently, I belonged to the four most unhinged Alphas in Lycandra.

The Caine quadruplets.

Everyone knew their reputations. Callum, the commander, who didn’t need to raise his voice to make the whole room obey. Jaxon, the brute dressed in shadows, the one you felt before you even saw. Rory, all charm and chaos, laughing while he mapped out how to ruin you. And Seth, the golden boy who smiled like sin—until he stopped, and then you were already dead.

Four nightmares. Four legends. And now, apparently, my mates.

Up close, they weren’t just stories. They were terrifyingly real.

Callum wore his power with precision. Broad-shouldered, tall enough that the air seemed thinner around him, muscles honed into the kind of strength you didn’t question. His hair was cropped close at the sides, longer on top, always neat, controlled—like him. His stillness carried more weight than most men’s shouting ever could.

Jaxon was raw tension. Just as tall, but harder, heavier, like every inch of him had been carved out of shadow and iron. His dark hair was slicked back, roughly, save for that one strand that always fell forward—like even his body wanted to rebel. Thick shoulders, forearms corded with muscle, veins flexing under skin stretched too tight. He didn’t need to move to be dangerous. The danger lived in him, simmering under every line.

Rory was chaos given flesh. His build was leaner than Callum’s bulk, but still packed with wiry strength, his frame all speed and sharp edges hidden under easy charm. His dark waves were tousled and deliberate, paired with that grin that promised either trouble or salvation—probably both. He carried himself loose, shoulders rolling, posture casual, as if nothing in the world could touch him. Which, of course, made everyone underestimate him. Their mistake.

Seth was reckless fire. His body was built for fighting dirty and laughing through it—broad chest, thick arms, and a cocky swagger that made him look untouchable. His hair was shaggy, tied back half-heartedly, strands falling loose into his storm-grey eyes. He was fire disguised as play. And the second the smile dropped, the blaze would consume everything.

My throat tightened. Goddess help me, they were beautiful. Deadly, insane, and beautiful.

But I wasn’t some glass doll they could wrap their claws around.

My gaze darted to the room, clinging to anything that wasn’t them. Walls panelled in deep forest green with gold filigree curling like vines. Silver runes glowing faintly at the edges, wards thrumming steady in my skin. A hearth glowed low, embers pulsing with warmth. Above, constellations of wolves chased the moon across the carved beams, mocking me with their endless cycle.

And on the nightstand: a muffin, a glass of water, aspirin. A neat little “we care” package from the same Alphas who had cornered me with bodies and voices until I had no air left to breathe. Thoughtful, sure. Manipulative, absolutely.

I dragged the blanket tighter around me, whispering to the empty room just to stop my voice from breaking. “Fine. I’ll play along.”

Because what the hell else could I do?

They were Alphas. Not just Alphas—those Alphas. Telling them no wasn’t just reckless; it was suicide.

But letting them cage me? Letting them mark me? Not a chance.

No.

My tears dried on my cheeks, leaving me raw, scraped clean. The ache was still there—sharp, brutal—but under it, something colder curled tight.

Resolve.

They could think what they wanted. They could circle me, call me theirs, glare at anyone who breathed in my direction. They could whisper “mine” until the walls remembered it.

But if they thought I was just going to roll over and play Luna?

They didn’t know me at all.

Callum’s POV

Back in the hallway, tension crackled like a brewing storm, thick enough to taste. The wards along the stone walls pulsed faintly with moonlight, responding to our agitation, humming low and restless like they were warning the entire pack house that something had shifted.

“She needs to understand the rules,” I said, my voice low, clipped. Ace was clawing at me inside, pacing, demanding I turn back, scoop her out of my bed and make her see what she was to us. My wolf didn’t want patience, didn’t want strategy—he wanted her. Marked. Claimed. Ours.

Rory scrubbed a hand through his dark hair, agitation written all over his face. “She’s scared shitless, Callum. You saw her. We all saw her.”

“Then we ease her into it,” I ground out, though patience had never been my strongest trait. “But she needs to understand that she belongs to us. That she’s not leaving. Not for the dorms. Not for anyone.”

Jax’s grey eyes darkened, his presence radiating pure threat. “She’s not going back to Silver Ridge dorms,” he said, voice rough, final. “Too many unmated males sniffing around. Too many who’d see her and think they have a chance.” His lips curved, sharp and cruel. “They won’t.”

Seth leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smirk half-shadowed in the enchanted lamplight. But his tone was deadly serious. “Five fucking years of waiting, of feeling her absence gnawing at us? No chance in hell I’m letting some pup who can’t even control his shift look at her twice. Fuck that.”

“She needs structure,” I said again, jaw tight. “She might not feel the bond yet, but that doesn’t change what she is. What she is to us.”

Rory scoffed, always the one to push back. “Right. Because nothing says ‘trust me, I’m your mate’ like laying down rules she never agreed to. Forcing her’s going to make her bolt, Cal.”

Before I could answer, Jax’s laugh cut through the air. It wasn’t humour—it was low, dark, feral. The kind that made the hair on your arms rise. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the stone wall, claws piercing through his skin, blood beading as if he didn’t even notice.

“She’ll learn,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger. His pupils had swallowed the grey of his eyes, his wolf, Blaze, pushing so close I could almost feel his energy pouring into the corridor. “The moment her wolf awakens, she’ll recognize us. And when that happens…” His grin sharpened, teeth flashing, cruel and beautiful. “…she’ll be dripping for us. Begging. Her body won’t give her a choice.”

Rory exhaled hard through his nose, like he didn’t want to admit Jax was right, but couldn’t argue. Seth’s smirk widened, though his eyes burned.

“She’s already halfway there,” Jax continued, voice low and dangerous. “You saw it. The way she trembled when I touched her. The way her pulse spiked when Cal whispered to her. She can lie to herself. Pretend she doesn’t feel it. But once that bond snaps into place? She’ll never breathe without thinking of us again.”

The image slid unbidden into my mind—her silver hair tangled against my sheets, her lips swollen, her voice raw from screaming our names. My wolf snarled approval, the sound rattling in my chest.

“She’s ours,” Seth muttered, almost reverent. “And the whole fucking realm’s about to know it.”

For a moment, none of us spoke. The air was too heavy, charged with magic and want. It was more than instinct—it was fate itself, the Goddess’s design, written in starlight and sealed in blood long before tonight.

I exhaled sharply, dragging my hand down my face, forcing the tension back into control. We couldn’t lose our heads. Not now.

“Tomorrow morning,” I said, my voice iron, “we introduce her properly.”

Seth raised a brow, smirking despite the storm raging between us. “Introduce her? She already met us, Callum.”

I met his eyes, steady, unyielding. “Not like this.”

Rhea’s POV

The morning sun was an obnoxious reminder that I was still here. Not in my dorm. Not in my bed. Here—in their world.

A knock rattled the door. I groaned into the pillow. “Go away.”

It opened anyway.

I shot upright, clutching the blanket tighter around me as all four of them strolled in like they owned the place—which, technically, they did. But still. Towering over my bed, the four of them looked less like men and more like gods of destruction, sculpted and impossible to ignore.

Callum stood front and center. Always. His storm-grey suit jacket was buttoned to perfection, dark tie pulled tight, pressed shirt immaculate. Not a wrinkle in sight. He didn’t dress like a student, or even like an Alpha who just rolled out of bed—he dressed like a king at war, ready to sign decrees. Arms crossed over his massive chest, his presence alone filled the room. “We need to talk,” he said, voice steady as stone, no room for argument.

I scowled. “I need coffee.”

Before he could reply, Seth flopped onto the end of the bed like it was his throne. Black joggers, a loose Henley hanging off his shoulders, leather bracelets stacked on his wrist—he looked like chaos packaged in muscle and smirks. His stormy-grey eyes glinted with trouble as he grinned. “After.”

They spread out around me, circling the bed like predators. The air shifted, heavy and tense, the wards in the walls practically humming with their presence.

Jaxon leaned against the doorframe, silent but lethal. Black combat boots, black shirt, black jeans—like he was born out of shadows and never left them. His lips twitched, but his grey eyes locked on me, obsessive, unblinking, like he was already cataloging every twitch of my expression. There was a precision to him that made my stomach flip—the kind of man who didn’t just break things; he dismantled them piece by piece.

Rory, of course, had to look different. He wore a white button-up with the sleeves rolled, chest slightly open, casual slacks hanging low on his hips. Relaxed, like he’d just wandered out of some high-end lounge. He leaned against the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips, every inch the strategist who didn’t need to raise his voice to win a war. His eyes said it all: You think you have choices? Let me prove you don’t.

The worst part wasn’t that they had shown up. The worst part was that they were introducing themselves without a single word. Every outfit, every expression, every stance—each one screamed who they were, daring me to figure it out.

Callum’s voice cut through the air, deep, unshakable. “Effective immediately, you’ll be moving into the pack house.”

I blinked. Did he just—

“Excuse me?” My voice was flat, disbelieving.

“It’s for your safety,” he added, like that explained anything.

Rory slid in smoothly, his tone easy but his smirk razor-sharp. “And you’ll be chauffeured to and from the academy. No walking. No public transport. Non-negotiable.”

My mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious.” Seth stretched out across my blanket, grin widening. “And you won’t wear anything too revealing unless one of us is with you.”

Heat crawled up my neck. Rage flared.

I gripped the blanket tighter. “What I wear is none of your business.”

Callum’s eyes darkened, Alpha aura rolling off him in waves. The growl in his chest rumbled low. “It is when unmated males stare at what belongs to us.”

My pulse spiked. Oh, fuck no.

“Excuse me—what belongs to you?” I snapped, my voice drenched in sarcasm. “I don’t belong to anyone, Alpha.”

I made sure to spit the title. His jaw ticked.

Jaxon tilted his head, eyes narrowing. His tone was quiet, but his dominance coiled sharp in the air. “You’ll address us by our names, sunshine.”

“Oh, of course, Alpha,” I said sweetly, grinning at the lethal growl that rumbled out of him.

Seth laughed, amused. “She’s testing us.”

“Damn right I am,” I muttered, not breaking eye contact with Alpha Callum.

The room shifted tighter when he stepped closer, suit perfect, power thrumming under his skin. His sheer size made the air feel smaller, heavier. His voice dipped low, a promise and a warning. “You’re our mate, little Luna. Protecting you isn’t just our duty—it’s instinct.”

I lifted my chin, heart hammering. “And what about my instincts? My choices? Do those matter?”

Rory sighed, brushing a hand through his dark hair. “Of course they do. But until you feel the bond, you’re vulnerable. You don’t understand what’s at stake yet.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Let me guess—more rules?”

“Curfews,” Jaxon cut in smoothly, tone cold. “No outings past ten unless one of us—or Theo—is with you.”

I let out a sharp, humourless laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

Callum, because of course he had to have the last word, delivered it like a death sentence. “And you’re ours.”

Callum’s POV

Her defiance was infuriating—

and intoxicating.

Ace prowled inside my head, his claws dragging against my thoughts. She’s pushing us on purpose, he snarled, his voice a guttural growl that made my veins burn. She needs to know her place. Ours.

She’s scared, I countered, my jaw tightening. Push too hard, and she’ll run.

Ace snapped his teeth at me. Then make her understand. Show her there’s nothing in Lycandra more perfect than her. Show her we already love her.

The word love stung my chest like a brand. It wasn’t wrong. It was too soon to say it out loud, but the bond had already twisted its claws into me. Into all of us.

I exhaled slowly, keeping Ace at bay. If I gave him control, we’d have her on her back in this bed, neck bared, marked, bound to us before she even knew what the hell had happened. And as much as that thought made my blood burn, as much as every instinct screamed for it, I couldn’t. Not yet.

But fuck, she wasn’t making this easy.

“These rules aren’t negotiable,” I said, my voice dropping low and steady. The weight of my Alpha aura pressed against her like a wall, heavy, deliberate. “You’ll see in time they’re for your benefit.”

Rhea’s blue eyes narrowed. She tilted her chin as if she were daring me to push harder, her silver hair tumbling over her bare shoulders as she crossed her arms. Then—she smirked.

“Let me guess,” she drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “you’ll start picking out my clothes next, Alpha?”

The title—that deliberate jab—hit me like a spark to dry tinder. My wolf snarled. My control thinned.

Behind me, Jaxon let out a slow, sharp exhale, like he was seconds from losing his own restraint. Rory muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like this girl’s going to kill us all. Seth, the bastard, just grinned like this was his favourite fucking game.

Oh, she was playing now.

I didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Just let the silence stretch between us until her smirk wavered for half a second.

“If that’s what it takes to keep you safe,” I said evenly, “then yes.”

Her lips parted. For just a heartbeat, her pulse jumped so hard I saw the vein in her throat flutter.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t move. But her fingers curled into the blanket just slightly, and the way her breath caught—sharp, shaky—

she felt it.

That was enough.

For now.

I leaned closer, letting my shadow fall across her, making sure she saw the truth in my eyes, making sure she heard the quiet promise buried in my tone.

“You can test us, little Luna. You can fight. You can snarl. But you’ll learn soon enough—there’s no escaping us. You’re ours.”

Rhea’s POV

I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something. Maybe even punch Callum square in the face, just to see if it would make that unreadable mask of his crack.

They were impossible—overbearing, possessive, and so calm in their absolute belief that they could dictate every second of my life.

But the worst part?

A small, traitorous part of me didn’t entirely hate it.

They weren’t just overwhelming in presence. They were visuals. The kind of men you couldn’t ignore, even if you tried.

Callum stood at the front, dressed like he always belonged at the head of a war council. Dark tailored suit, tie neat, shoes polished to perfection. His stormy eyes carried that same sharp authority as his clothes: clean, commanding, precise. The eldest, the one who made decisions and expected obedience. His entire aura screamed Alpha, and I wasn’t dumb enough to miss that he fully intended me to fall in line. Spoiler alert—like hell I would.

Then Jaxon, lurking just a step behind, silent but lethal. Black button-down rolled at the sleeves, open at the throat, jeans hanging low on his hips. He didn’t need polish—his intensity was his armour. His steel-grey eyes locked on me obsessively, like I was already marked prey. He wasn’t here to play nice. He was here to consume, and the fact that I shivered under his gaze only made me angrier.

Rory was the only one who didn’t look like he was about to lock me in a gilded cage. Dressed sharp but casual—white button-up with the sleeves rolled, chest slightly open, casual slacks hanging low on his hips. He leaned against the wall as if he were bored, smirking as if this were just another strategy session. But those sharp grey eyes gave him away. He was calculating every move, every word. The dangerous kind of clever. The one who would convince me I had choices before proving I never really did.

And Seth… gods, Seth. Black joggers, a loose Henley hanging off his shoulders, leather bracelets stacked on his wrist. He had the nerve to sit right on the edge of my bed, his stormy eyes alight with mischief, grin spread wide like he was thoroughly enjoying my breakdown. The cocky, chaotic one. The one who would laugh as he lit the match and then hand me the gasoline.

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering, and forced my voice to stay even. “I’ll stay here for now. But don’t think for a second I’m going to fall in line just because you say so.”

Jaxon’s smirk curved slow and dark, knowing. “We wouldn’t expect anything less, sunshine.”

Callum’s expression softened—barely. “Get dressed, little Luna. Breakfast is in twenty minutes.”

And just like that, they turned and left.

The moment the door shut, I collapsed back onto the bed; the blanket clutched to my chest, my heart racing so fast it hurt.

What the fuck just happened?

Seth’s POV

The second we stepped into the hallway, I let out a low whistle. “She’s got some fire, doesn’t she?”

Rory snorted, rubbing his jaw like he was already preparing for the years of battles ahead. “She’s going to fight us every step of the way.”

“Let her,” Jaxon muttered, arms crossed, his eyes still burning with that dangerous obsession. “She’ll learn. She has to.”

Callum didn’t say a word at first, but I could feel the tension radiating from him. His wolf was clawing for control, just like mine.

Finally, his voice cut through the air—deep, steady, unshakable. “She’s our mate. We’ll protect her, love her, cherish her… whether or not she likes it.”

I grinned, rolling my shoulders. “And the rules?”

“They stay,” Callum said flatly, his gaze flicking back toward her door. His eyes were darker than usual, storm clouds brewing. “She’ll thank us later.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

But one thing was clear—

this wasn’t going to be easy.

And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.