CHAPTER 4

AUTUMN POV

I was ten when I lost the only person who truly cared about me.

Jasper Logan. My Dad.

The Stepbrother of the Logan brothers. The one who found me alone in the forest when I was just five years old. The one who brought me into this pack, sheltered me, protected me—loved me like his own.

But when I turned ten, he was gone.Killed in battle.

And everything changed.

The triplets—Adonis, Knox, and Dante—had been only fifteen at the time, too young to take on full Alpha duties, but they had still raised me like their little angel. Their princess.

They had adored me.

But then…On my eighteenth birthday, they brought in Agatha.

A rogue girl—same age as me.

They had found her wandering, helpless, and instead of turning her away, they had given her everything.

A home. A family. My place.And from that moment on, I had started to disappear.

Slowly. Subtly. Like a shadow fading from the light.Agatha had made sure of that.

I had trusted them.

My thoughts were abrupt with a bang sound.The door swung open without a knock, and my chest tightened with familiar dread.

Agatha.

She stepped inside with a smug grin, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe, her perfect golden curls cascading over her shoulders. I felt a flicker of the old fear, but quickly suppressed it, replacing it with a simple smile.

"You know, I almost feel bad for you," she drawled, false sympathy dripping from her voice. The sound of it made my stomach twist with disgust. "Almost."

I kept my expression blank, my gaze steady on hers. Beneath the covers, my fingers curled slightly, the only outward sign of the anger simmering beneath my skin.

Here we go again.

She strode in further, her presence filling the room with suffocating arrogance, before sitting at the edge of my desk. Her fingers lazily traced the surface like she owned everything in this room. I watched her movements, noting how her confidence seemed to require these little displays of dominance.

"You should have seen it, Barbie," she sighed dramatically, a flash of genuine pleasure crossing her face. "Last month when Uncle Adonis gave me that full set of limited edition designer bags. Oh, and those dresses? Gods, they were custom-made from Silvermoon Boutique. Only the best, of course."

She let out a satisfied hum, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she studied my reaction.

Or rather—my lack of one.

I simply blinked at her, my face carefully neutral, though I could feel the beat of my heart against my ribcage growing stronger with each passing second. The old wound of being replaced, of being forgotten.

She frowned, but recovered quickly.

"Oh, and the best part? Remember when you had to spend a whole night in the storage room? All because of that little mistake you made?" She laughed, a delicate sound filled with mockery. "Uncles were soooo angry at you for stealing my homework."

My nails bit into my palm, drawing small crescents of pain that helped ground me. The memory flooded back with crystal clarity, bringing with it a wave of humiliation and rage that threatened to overwhelm my carefully constructed facade.

She was lying.

I hadn't stolen her homework. I had written it.

I had spent the entire night working on it, my eyes burning with exhaustion, my hand cramping from the effort, pouring in hours of work, only for Agatha to slap her name on it the next morning.

And when I had protested, my voice shaking with indignation and hurt?

She had cried, her eyes welling with perfectly timed tears.

"She stole it from me! I worked so hard!"

And they had believed her. Without question. Without a second thought.

I had been punished—locked in my room for a full day without food, my stomach cramping with hunger, my throat raw from unshed tears.

While Agatha?

She had been rewarded. Praised for her "hard work" and "honesty."

Back then, the injustice had broken me. She was the perfect girl, and I was being bad girl bullying her.

Now?

Now, I felt a strange sense of clarity. A cold, calculated understanding of exactly who and what I was dealing with.

I simply smiled, feeling a dangerous warmth spread through my chest. "Oh, right. That day." I tilted my head, watching her face closely. "The one where you cried like someone died because I got scolded?"

Agatha stiffened, her smirk faltering for half a second. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, so brief I would have missed it if I hadn't been looking for it.

Gotcha.

"I—I didn't cry," she stammered, her confidence wavering for the first time.

I let out a soft laugh, savoring the sweet taste of this small victory. "Of course not. You were just so overwhelmed with emotions that you needed Uncle Dante to comfort you for two hours, huh?"

Her jaw clenched, a muscle jumping in her cheek. "You little—"

"Oh, and wasn't that also the time you accidentally let it slip to the omegas that I got punished? I mean, you were just so worried about me, right?" I gave her a sweet, knowing smile, even as my heart raced with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. I was playing with fire, and I knew it.

Agatha's entire expression soured. Her eyes narrowed, her lips thinned, her posture stiffened. For the first time in a long time, she looked uneasy.

And I enjoyed every second of it, a warm satisfaction spreading through my chest.

She straightened her posture, masking her irritation with a condescending smirk. "It doesn't matter," she scoffed, her voice slightly higher than usual. "At the end of the day, I'm the one they care about. Not you."

Ah.

There it was.

The real reason she was here.

She needed to remind herself—and me—that she had won. That she had taken everything from me. That she had destroyed me.

The words struck home, a dagger finding its mark in that tender, wounded place inside me.

In my past life, this would have worked. I would have flinched. I would have doubted everything. I would have broken.

But today?

Today, I simply tilted my head and asked, a genuine curiosity in my voice, "Why?"

Agatha blinked, visibly thrown off-balance.

For the first time, she didn't have an immediate answer. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Confusion flickered across her face, quickly replaced by wariness.

I leaned forward slightly, holding her gaze, emboldened by her uncertainty. "Why do they care about you more than me?" My voice was soft, curious, innocent even. "Because you're their real family? Because you're kind and loving? Because you deserve it?"

Each question made her visibly tense, her shoulders drawing up, her fingers clutching the edge of the desk.

She scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder in a gesture that felt mechanical, rehearsed. "Of course."

"Then why are you here?" I pressed, my voice still gentle, but with an edge that hadn't been there before.

Silence fell between us, heavy and charged.

Agatha's smug expression twitched, uncertainty creeping into her eyes.

She opened her mouth, then shut it again, her confidence crumbling.

Her hand gripped the fabric of her dress, her knuckles whitening with the force of it, her carefully constructed facade cracking just a little more.

She hadn't expected this. She had expected tears, frustration, anger—something she could use against me. Something that would reaffirm her power, her control.

But I was giving her nothing. No reaction. Just questions she didn't want to answer.

Questions that perhaps she'd never asked herself.

"Oh, Agatha," I sighed, shaking my head with a small, pitying smile. Warmth spread through my chest, a dangerous, heady feeling of control. "You look so worried. What's wrong?"

Her nostrils flared, a flush creeping up her neck. "Shut up."

I laughed softly, the sound surprising even me with its genuine amusement. "Did I hit a nerve?"

She scoffed and showed a middle finger to show her anger. And she walked out of the room angrily.

I need to leave this place now, before the past repeats itself. 

I walked to their office, and stood before them, my heart hammering in my chest even as I forced my shoulders to stay steady, my expression composed. The familiar scent of sandalwood and pine filled the study, once comforting, now suffocating.

Adonis sat behind his desk, flipping through a report with his usual serious expression. Knox stood near the bookshelves, arms crossed, listening but not reacting. Dante leaned back in the chair across from me, his legs spread in his usual lazy, confident stance, twirling a dagger between his fingers.

I took a deep breath, feeling my pulse fluttering in my throat like a trapped bird. When I spoke, I kept my voice calm, polite, distant—exactly how an omega should speak to their alphas. "I want permission to leave the pack."

The air in the room shifted, growing thick with tension.

Adonis's eyes lifted from the report, golden and sharp, locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. Knox's fingers twitched slightly, but he said nothing, his silver-blue eyes narrowing imperceptibly. Dante—who had been relaxed just a second ago—stopped twirling his dagger mid-spin, his usual smirk fading.

The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, until I could feel the weight of it pressing down on my shoulders.

Then—

"No."

I blinked, a jolt of surprise shooting through me.

It was Adonis who spoke.

My chest tightened, a familiar feeling of helplessness threatening to overwhelm me, but I kept my expression blank, refusing to show weakness. "I have no reason to stay."

Knox sighed, rubbing his temple, a flash of something—frustration? concern?—crossing his face. "Autumn, don't start."

"Start what?" I forced a small, confused smile, though my heart was racing. "I don't belong here, do I? Isn't that what Agatha always says?"

Dante made a sound—almost like a laugh, but it was humorless, dark. "Since when do you listen to Agatha?"

I gritted my teeth, feeling a flush of anger rising in my cheeks. "Since it became obvious she was right."

Adonis leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk. His gaze was steady, unreadable, but I could feel the weight of his authority pressing down on me. "You're not leaving."

Something inside me snapped, a dam breaking, releasing a flood of emotions I'd been holding back.

"Why not?" I demanded, my voice rising despite my best efforts to control it.

"Because I said so."

I had expected resistance.

I had expected arguments, commands, and maybe even threats.

But I had not expected this.

The three Alphas—Adonis, Knox, and Dante—sat before me, completely unmoved by my request to leave.

Adonis leaned back in his chair, his golden-brown eyes steady, arms folded across his broad chest. "You're not leaving."

Knox stood near the bookshelves, arms crossed, his silver-blue eyes unreadable. "End of discussion."

Dante, the most unpredictable of them, tilted his head lazily, his lips curving into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Where would you even go, Barbie? The world isn't kind to omegas without a pack."

Like you care.

I clenched my fists beneath the table, my nails digging into my palms, willing myself to stay calm even as my chest burned with anger and grief.

They didn't know.

They didn't know that every second I stayed here, we were getting closer to the truth—a truth that would bind me to them forever.

A truth I refused to let happen.

I was their mate.And they had no idea.But they would.

Eventually, their wolves would feel the bond.

Eventually, their instincts would scream at them to claim me.

And when that day came?

They would still reject me. Just like they had in my past life. Just like they always would.

I couldn't let that happen.

I wouldn't let it happen.

I had lived one lifetime watching them throw me away, had felt the agonizing pain of mate rejection, had watched as they chose others over me, again and again and again.

I wasn't going to survive another.

I lifted my chin, keeping my expression neutral even as I felt my heart pounding against my ribs. "I don't belong here."

Adonis's gaze hardened, his jaw tightening. "You were raised in this pack. This is your home."

Home.The word made me want to laugh, bitter and hollow.

"No, it's not." My voice was calm, steady, belying the storm of emotions inside me. "You made that clear years ago."

Dante leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "What's with this sudden obsession with leaving? Is this about Agatha? Did she say something to you?"

I inhaled sharply, my hands curling against the fabric of my dress, the memory of Agatha's smug smile flashing through my mind. "Does it matter?"

Knox exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple as if I was giving him a headache. "You're not leaving."

I wanted to scream, to rage, to make them understand the depth of my pain, my loneliness, my desperation.

"Why?" I asked again, my voice cracking slightly despite my efforts to keep it steady.

None of them answered.

The tension in the room grew thick, suffocating, pressing down on me until I felt like I couldn't breathe.

I scanned their faces, looking for something—anything that would explain why they suddenly cared if I stayed. Why now, after years of neglect, of indifference, of outright hostility, they were refusing to let me go.

They wouldn't even look at each other.

Something was off.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady. "You always told me I was a burden. That I had no place here. So why now? Why keep me?"

Silence.

Adonis's jaw ticked, a muscle jumping in his cheek, but he said nothing.

Dante smirked, but his fingers twitched against his knee, a tell I'd never noticed before.

Knox...

Knox was watching me too closely.

I hated that look.

That calculating, unreadable look.Like he was trying to figure me out.A chill ran down my spine, a premonition of danger I couldn't quite place.

I took a slow step back, forcing a small, stiff smile. "I see. So I'm a prisoner, then?"

Dante let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "If you were a prisoner, Barbie, you'd be locked up right now."