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claimed by my alpha step brother
claimed by my alpha step brother
Author: Catty

chapter 1

Author: Catty
last update publish date: 2026-08-13 20:06:12

I never wanted to live in a house that smelled like power.

The Alpha’s house sat at the end of a long driveway lined with tall trees, the kind that made everything feel watched. My mother had been smiling since we turned onto the road, her hand resting lightly on my knee like she needed the contact to stay calm. I kept my eyes on the window and said nothing.

“It’s going to be different this time, Phyna,” she said softly. “Safer. Better.”

I didn’t answer. Different never meant better for people like me.

The front door opened before we even reached it. A tall man with silver at his temples stepped out—my new stepfather, Alpha of this pack. He greeted my mother with a warm smile and a brief kiss on the cheek, then turned to me with a polite nod.

“Welcome, Phyna.”

I forced a small smile and followed them inside.

The house was large, polished, and quiet in a way that felt intentional. Pack houses always carried a certain weight, but this one pressed harder against my skin. My Beta instincts stayed sharp, reading every corner, every scent. There was dominance here. Strong, settled, and very much alive.

I was halfway up the stairs with my suitcase when a door somewhere down the hall opened.

I froze.

A boy stepped out—no, not a boy. A young man. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair still damp from a shower, wearing a black T-shirt that clung to his chest. He looked like he belonged on the cover of every magazine the girls at school whispered about. Sharp jaw. Lazy confidence. Eyes the color of dark honey that landed on me and didn’t move.

Tristan.

I knew the name before anyone said it. My mother had mentioned him once, carefully, like she was testing how I would react. The Alpha’s only son. The most popular guy at school. The future Alpha.

My stepbrother.

He stopped a few feet away, one hand still on the doorframe. His gaze moved over me slowly, openly, like he was deciding something. The air between us thickened. My wolf stirred under my skin, restless and confused.

I gripped the handle of my suitcase tighter.

“You must be Phyna,” he said. His voice was low, smooth, and far too calm.

I nodded once. “Yes.”

He didn’t smile. He just kept looking at me, head tilted slightly, as if he was listening to something only he could hear. My heartbeat kicked harder. I hated that he could probably sense it.

“I’m Tristan.”

“I know.”

A faint smirk touched the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Those stayed locked on mine, sharp and assessing.

My mother called from downstairs, breaking the silence. Tristan’s attention flicked away for half a second, then returned to me.

“Your room is the last one on the left,” he said. “Try not to get lost.”

I didn’t answer. I simply turned and walked the rest of the way down the hall, feeling his stare follow me the entire time. Only when I closed the bedroom door behind me did I let out the breath I had been holding.

I pressed my back against the wood and closed my eyes.

This was a mistake.

I had spent years staying quiet, staying small, staying out of the way of stronger wolves. I knew how packs worked. I knew what happened to Betas who drew the wrong kind of attention. And Tristan already looked at me like I was something he planned to keep.

I opened my eyes and stared at the unfamiliar room—soft gray walls, large window, a bed that looked too neat. My suitcase sat at my feet like a reminder that I no longer had a place that was truly mine.

Tomorrow I would start school here.

Tomorrow the entire pack would see me walking the same halls as their future Alpha.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and pressed my hands together to stop them from shaking.

I would stay invisible.

I would keep my distance.

I would not become a problem.

I had no idea that by the end of the next day, Tristan would have already decided I belonged to him.

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  • claimed by my alpha step brother   chapter 101

    Autumn returned to Blackridge without asking for proof.It came in the color at the edge of the climbing tree, in the cooler mornings, in the way the freeholds argued about stores instead of water and the captains revised routes with the particular patience of men who had learned that the ground would change whether they signed off on it or not. I stood at the upper window with our son heavy on my hip and watched our daughter run the eastern path in a coat she had refused until the wind changed her mind. Tristan came up behind me, still in the residual formal cloth of a morning threshold conversation, and rested his mouth against the claim mark at my throat as if checking a seal that had never broken.“She is going to demand the tree before noon,” he said.“She already filed the petition at breakfast.”“I denied it.”“She is filing an appeal with my mother.”He exhaled into my skin. “I am going to lose.”“You always lose that one. It is in the charter.”Our son reached for Tristan’s f

  • claimed by my alpha step brother   chapter 100

    Summer did not ask whether the house had finished learning two children.It arrived with heat that sat in the stone corridors long after sunset, with freeholds arguing about water as if the sky required their signature, and with a boy who had discovered that sitting was no longer enough. He lunged. He collapsed. He recalculated. He lunged again. Tristan, who had once sorted border threats by severity, now sorted floor cloths by grip and distance and the precise angle at which a six-month-old body could convert triumph into a forehead against the boards.“He is leaving,” Tristan said, not for the first time, catching him at the edge of the supervised range.“He is crawling.”“Same category in this house.”Our daughter, nearly three and fully committed to the administration of all motion under her jurisdiction, attempted to redirect her brother’s route toward the wooden bird and away from the stair gate. He ignored foreign policy and continued toward Tristan’s boot with the blunt focus

  • claimed by my alpha step brother   chapter 99

    A hundred seasons of a different kind had brought us here.Not the formal seasons the freeholds counted in grain and thaw. The private ones: the hallway, the claim, the silver, the closed codes, the arena, the long proving, the first cry in a lamp-lit room, the second gate, the wooden bird passed from one small hand toward another. Blackridge still called me Luna and Tristan Alpha. The climbing tree still held the eastern path in its shade. And on a morning of clean late-spring light, I woke to the sound of our daughter attempting to legislate breakfast from the corridor and our son announcing his own hunger with a thin, committed cry, and the claim mark at my throat sat warm against the pillow as if it, too, had learned the difference between a held breath and a life.Tristan was already moving.He had the boy against his shoulder before my feet found the floor, the older child attached to his leg like a living shackle, and the particular expression he wore when the formal machine ha

  • claimed by my alpha step brother   chapter 98

    By the third month the boy had found his hands and the older child had found a new legislative problem: the hands were not under her jurisdiction.She attempted to redirect them. He waved them in her face with the blunt autonomy of a person who had not yet learned politics and already rejected her first proposal. Tristan, caught between them on the nursery floor, looked to me for a ruling. I refused to provide one. Some disputes were older than formal charters and would outlast them.“Baby wrong,” she announced.“Baby learning,” Tristan said.“Learning wrong.”“Charter says learning is permitted even when loud.”She deposed the charter under her breath and went to appeal to the wooden bird. The bird, as ever, upheld a flexible foreign policy. The boy, triumphant in his unstructured victory, gummed his own fist and kicked until Tristan’s face did the soft ruin that still arrived without announcement each time.Late winter thinned into the first dishonest thaw. Melt by noon, freeze by n

  • claimed by my alpha step brother   chapter 97

    By the third week the house had stopped treating every cry as a formal event and had started treating two cries as a scheduling problem.The boy woke hungry at hours that refused to negotiate. The older child woke offended that the hunger was not a meeting she had been invited to chair. Tristan moved between cradle and small bed with the grim focus of a man running a border under weather, except the border was a nursery and the weather was milk and the particular political fury of a two-year-old who had not yet accepted that attention was not a single continuous stream aimed only at her.“Da,” she said, pointing at the baby with the wooden bird as evidence. “Baby done.”“Baby not done,” Tristan said, voice scraped by a night that had come in pieces. “Baby eats. You ate. Charter says both eat.”“Charter wrong.”“Charter is the law.”She considered deposing the law, then climbed into his empty chair instead and fell asleep with the bird under her chin, a small person conserving energy f

  • claimed by my alpha step brother   chapter 96

    The first night with two children did not divide itself into clean watches.It stacked. A thin cry from the cradle. A thicker demand from the small bed against the other wall. Tristan moving between them with the dazed precision of a man whose formal training had never included simultaneous negotiations with a newborn and a two-year-old who had decided the newborn’s existence required her continuous supervision. I fed the boy while she stood on her toes at the edge of the mattress, wooden bird clenched, eyes narrowed on the precise angle of my arms.“Baby eat,” she observed.“Baby eat,” I agreed.“Me eat.”“You ate. Later you eat again.”“Now.”Tristan intercepted the legislation before it could climb the bed. He lifted her, received the full formal complaint against his shoulder, and walked the upper corridor until the complaint became a heavy, offended sleep. When he returned, the boy had finished and gone slack against my chest, mouth open, one fist curled under his chin. Tristan s

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