Chapter 3

I sway my chair from side to side, ankle resting on my opposite knee, arms folded loosely across my chest. My eyes are fixed on nothing in particular—just drifting—and so are my thoughts. I’m thinking, clearly, but I haven’t the faintest idea what I’m thinking about.

It’s… normal. For me, at least. A strange little mental limbo where I can think and not think at the same time. It spares me the agony of overthinking, gives my brain the illusion of functioning while I try to remember which catastrophe I’m supposed to be solving today.

There’s too much to do. As always. New pack members bring more headaches—job placements, housing arrangements, integration, discipline issues—the list never ends. And of course, there’s the mountain of unfinished business from last week. If I had a mate, maybe she’d handle some of this. But I don’t. And I never will.

So, the burden stays on me.

Running a pack is many things. Fun is not one of them.

A knock pulls my focus—an actual knock, which is rare enough to make me pause mid-sway. Since when does he knock?

He cracks the door open with the exaggerated caution of someone who wants something. His messy ash-blond hair sticks up like he’s been pulling at it, and his lips are twisted into a dramatic pout. Definitely something.

“Alpha…” Cooper drawls in a voice I already know I’m going to regret listening to.

I sigh. “What is it?”

“I… or well, the Alpha of Shtylla e Forcës sent an email. Another one of those peace-loyalty-sacrifice-your-pride offers.”

I chuckle, kicking back into my sway. Just like Father said—fear is a powerful weapon to control kings. And he wasn’t wrong. I’ve lived most of my life by his rules, especially when it comes to leadership. He ruled with fear and so do I. Though, to be fair, I’m less dramatic. I don’t go looking for trouble like he did. I wait. And when it comes to me, I answer with fire.

Two arrogant alphas challenged me not long ago—cost me five valuable pack members. One of them was irreplaceable. In my rage, I did what I do best: I rained hell. Their packs collapsed, their names turned to ash, and their blood reminded the rest of the world exactly who I am.

Now? Now I get desperate alphas sending me bribes disguised as peace treaties. They hand me their problems—people—just to avoid my wrath. It’s pathetic.

But Father drilled one lesson into me more than any other: Never reject the token of a defeated alpha. That’s a sign of weakness.

And I am no weakling.

“How many did he offer this time?” I ask, eyeing Cooper’s shifting posture.

He grins. That’s never a good sign.

“This one’s different. Better, actually.”

I raise a brow. “Oh?”

“He’s offering open passage—our men can search for their mates within his pack. No resistance. No bloodshed. No formal negotiations. Just go in, search, and hope.”

Huh. That is a tempting offer. Alphas are only as strong as the wolves in their pack—and the children they produce. More wolves, more power. It’s simple math. Avoiding casualties in the process? Even better. Of course, I know why he cares so much.

I groan, sinking deeper into my chair. “Not this again.”

“This might be the only chance I get to find my mate!” Cooper blurts, his face lighting up like a sunrise.

“You say that every time, Cooper. No.”

“Please, Drixie! You know how long I’ve waited. How many times we’ve gone out looking! This time feels different.”

That’s exactly the problem. Cooper is the most optimistic person I’ve ever met when it comes to mates. He’s obsessed. Unshakeable. Every visit to every neighbouring pack, he goes in beaming—and returns shattered. And yet, he never stops hoping.

“Everett found his, and now he won’t shut up about it,” Cooper continues with a huff. “It’s not fair!”

“I don’t care.”

“Of course, you do. A mate is everything!”

“And what if you don’t find her? Then what? You’ll come back dragging your heart across the floor again, and I’ll be the one stuck piecing you back together. I’m trying to protect you, Cooper.”

“And I appreciate that, but I need this. You once told me—‘You’ll never know unless you try.’”

“I never said that.” I deadpan.

“Maybe not in words,” he mutters, sheepish. “But you meant it.”

I run a hand over my face, already defeated.

“Please, Hendrix,” he begs. “Just this once. I feel it—I really feel it. And yeah, maybe I do say that every time, but what else do I have if not hope?”

His hope will be the death of him. Every time he left, it was with the same bright spark of enthusiasm, convinced he’d find her. And every time he returned empty-handed, it was the same—us, consoling him, dragging his limp, broken form back to the pack. Then came the grief, quiet and heavy, lasting for weeks before he’d pull himself together, retreat into that fragile shell of hope, and start the cycle all over again.

How he manages to keep that hope alive is something none of us can understand.

“I’ll even ask Everett and Brie to help me—”

I whimper in exasperation. “Not them. Anyone but them.”

This is my punishment—Father insisted I bond with the Beta’s son and the next warrior captain. I love them, sure, but they are chaos personified. Add Cooper’s sister Brie to the mix and my life becomes a musical comedy I didn’t audition for.

“Please don’t drag Everett into this. I’m begging.”

“Then say yes,” he grins. “I’ll give you my firstborn child.”

I snort.

“If you won’t do it for me as your Beta, do it for me as your best friend.”

“Best friend?” I scoff. “You two locked me in a coffin once because I forgot your Christmas presents.”

“We were children!” he defends, face aghast.

I raise a brow. “You locked me in a basement full of venomous vipers. And that was yesterday.”

“To err is human; to forgive, divine,” he says smoothly.

He bats his lashes at me, putting on the full Cooper charm. There’s no winning. If I refuse now, Everett will join him, and then Brie will show up with her emotionally or violently manipulative tactics, and the three of them will wear me down until I sign over my life in cursive.

And, I find it difficult to say no to him.

I sigh—loud and long—and nod.

“YES!” he shouts. “I’ll email him right now. Oh, and there’s an extra offer, but I’ll tell you that later. Bye!”

And just like that, he bolts out of my office screaming, “I’M GOING TO FIND MY MATE!”

It’s… sad, really. I already know how this ends. The light in his eyes will dim. His shoulders will slump. His voice will fall quiet. And we’ll carry him back again.

“I wish you had his enthusiasm,” my wolf murmurs in the back of my mind.

I ignore him.

It’s easier than arguing. Easier than admitting that no part of me believes there’s a mate out there for me.

Eventually, he’ll understand. Some wolves get fated bonds.

Others?

We just get the burden of surviving without one.