Chapter 3

Claire's POV

I was still hardly aware when he yanked me up by the collar of my shirt and leaned his head against my neck. My body burned, and a cold dread clutched at my chest. It's over, I thought. My life would be over in tragedy, in a twisted fate. I was to be an isolated werewolf—unmated, unpooled, part of nothing. The horror of it was crushing.

"Listen, you could have been a good plaything, but what I'm going to do to you isn't second-best," he growled, his voice rough and distorted with sadism. His words slithered through my mind, infusing me with loathing and disgust.

"Fuck you!" The words, almost a whisper, exploded from my mouth, but defiance glowed in my heart. Small victory.

The smile that crept across his face set him at a highly wicked-looking best, a distorted pleasure scrawled across his face. "Oh yeah, remember the prank you played on me just now? This is payback!"

How was destiny so cruel? How had it led me here, to this vile creature as my mate? I never could have imagined this, not even in my worst nightmares. The shock of it all was too much, my mind unable to process the reality of the situation. All this started with a prank. A prank that had somehow led us to discover we were mates, and now had become this mess.

The darkness approached as my consciousness began to fade away, and when I could stand it no longer, the door creaked open by itself.

Dylan whirled to get a look at the trespasser. I turned, also slowly, too weak to act quickly. My body complained in agony. I caught a glimpse of my father standing in the doorway, his face contorted with shock. My heart with a spark of hope.

"Dad?" I barely whispered, finding it hard to manage more than a whisper. My mouth was dry, my words being pinched by pain.

He could only stare at us, his eyes widening in shock, unable to utter a word. Beside him stood the alpha, Dylan's dad, Wilson—his face rapidly switching from a confused look to one that was inscrutable.

Then, a man I didn't know came in the room after Wilson, a mysterious figure.

I turned once more to face my tormentor, but Dylan released me instantly and stood tall to welcome our arrivals. My head struck the floor with an ache, but physical pain was hardly felt after everything else.

My dad, as if prompt, raced to my side, his tone tinged with worry and rage. "Hey, baby, are you alright?"

I could feel the weight of his concern, but I did not wish to add to it. I needed him to remain strong. "I'm okay, dad. How did you arrive?" I whispered, my head a blurry fog.

"The rest out there informed me." He spoke in a tight voice, and I sensed the irritation there. The party music continued to thump, and it hurt my head.

"You don't need to worry about me, dad; go back to the alpha's side," I spoke in a faint smile, trying to soothe him.

"How can you say that? Look at you." He was so lost, so desperate to fix things.

"Don't worry about it; I will be okay," I said, trying to muster another small smile. I hated that I had to say it, but it was the only thing that would keep him from totally losing his temper.

"Fine, if you'd like." Reluctantly, he took a step back, his face tight, before moving forward and clamping a hand around a wad of Dylan's shirt. I could sense the fury radiating from my dad as my heart thrummed in my chest.

"It definitely needs to be done to you like you did to Claire," my dad muttered, his tone a snarl.

When he was about to strike, Wilson advanced, his hand descending forcefully upon the shoulder of my father. The glance they exchanged was a thousand words, unsaid knowing, shared history, and sheer loyalty.

"What are you doing boys here?" my dad demanded, trying to contain his anger.

"I should be asking you that!" Wilson lashed out in incredulity, his tone sharp. "What the hell were you doing here with this girl?"

"Not anything." Dylan's tone was weak, a little apologetic, his pride clearly hurt.

"Not anything!? And she is in this battered-down shape?" Wilson's tone increased with rage, his eyes flashing.

"I was making a point," Dylan growled, his tone defensive but ineffective.

"Even with my daughter?" My father's rage was clear now. I could feel his warmth radiating, the urge to defend kicking into overdrive.

"No," I replied softly.

"What were you actually trying to prove? That you're superior to everyone else? That you can hit anyone you feel like hitting?" he pressed on, his voice getting darker by the word.

Before Dylan could respond, a strange voice cut through the tension. "It’s OK, Ron. I’ll take it from here."

I whirled to confront the man who had stood in the background. Blake Caesar? The name struck me like a bolt of lightning, and I found myself gaping at him in stunned relief. He was more handsome than the rumor had painted him, but his expression was severe, concentrated, annoyed.

"So, what the hell are you doing here?" Dylan sneered, clearly irritated by the new alpha's presence.

Blake's eyes snapped into narrow slits, a scowl etched across his face. "Mind your station," he spoke coldly, his voice commanding. I could see the dominance in every gesture.

Wilson appeared to bristle at Blake's reprimand, but the alpha did not flinch.

"It’s okay, Wilson; there is no problem," Blake said, his voice soothing yet firm. He then turned to face Dylan. "I’m here for my mate."

"My mate?" Dylan’s voice cracked with shock. His world was crashing around him.

I didn't know if I should be more shocked at Blake's impromptu declaration or that it was taking place. This was my opportunity, my chance to break free from the heartache. Despite how much I hated to think about Dylan getting off free with all that he'd done, I knew I had no other choice.

The air was thick with tension, everyone staring at me. My dad and Wilson were there, their faces unreadable, but they weren't going to get in the way of Blake.

"Yes. My mate," Blake confirmed, his deep blue eyes never leaving mine.

"That's total rubbish!" Dylan roared, his rage spilling over into fury.

Blake's eyebrow shot up in amusement, his stance relaxed in spite of Dylan's rant. "Is that so? What reason could that be?"

The words sliced through, and Dylan's rage was written on his face. "She's my mate!"

"How is this even possible?" Wilson asked, his bewilderment sharing mine.

"It actually is, Father," Dylan snarled with a twisted smile. He was trying to spin it around, yet again, but everything about himself.

I could no longer take it. I crept inch by tormenting inch towards Blake, my limbs complaining every inch.

"Nobody does that to their mate like you just did that one, my daughter," my dad finally broke his silence, his voice thick and gruff but with firm determination.

"I'm telling you, Ron, cool down," Wilson tried to reason, but my dad's gaze didn't leave Dylan, filled with fury.

"That doesn't make anything different, she is still my mate," Dylan pouted, his voice turning into a whiny whine, like a child throwing a tantrum.

"No more, asshole!" I spat, finally coming to rest at Blake's feet. My entire body was screaming in pain, but I no longer cared.

No one could intervene before I placed my hand on Blake's leg, my voice barely audible. With what strength I had left, I forced out the words, "You….I choose you, Blake Caesar, to be my mate."