Twist of fate

NICKOLAS Pov

SILVERCLAW HOLLOW

As our convoy rolled into Silverclaw Hollow pack, I leaned back in my seat, my eyes scanned the towering structure that loomed ahead. The pack house was a big mansion built in the heart of a dense forest, with high stone walls encased in creeping ivy and towering oak trees. The architecture was a mix of old-world charm and modern elegance, its sharp gables and grand archways a testament to the pack’s wealth and influence.

The pack members had lined up along the driveway leading to the entrance, their heads bowed in respect as our convoy passed.

When our cars came to a halt, I stepped out first. My mother emerged next, her posture was straight and commanding as ever, she adjusted her fur-lined coat.

A group of high-ranking wolves approached us. The man leading them was tall and broad-shouldered, his silver-streaked hair. His wife, a woman with a piercing green eye, stood at his side. Clearly the Alpha of Silverclaw Hollow, stepped forward.

“Alpha Nickolas,” the man greeted. He inclined his head respectfully. “It is an honor to welcome you and your family to our home.”

I nodded curtly; I kept my expression neutral. “Alpha Gitz, I appreciate your warm hospitality.”

He introduced us to the other members of his council, each one bowing in turn. The respect they showed us was palpable. Even their Omega attendants, who had been tasked with carrying our luggage, moved with precision and care.

The pack house’s massive double doors swung open, revealing an opulent interior. The foyer was a spectacle of polished marble floors, glittering chandeliers, and intricately carved wooden paneling. The walls of the rooms were adorned with portraits of past Alphas.

The pack's attendants ushered us inside, offering refreshments and taking off our coats.

“This is... quaint,” my mother remarked.

“Don’t start,” I muttered under my breath.

The Alpha’s wife stepped forward. “We’ve prepared a feast in your honor. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

We followed them into the house. The grandeur of Silverclaw Hollow was impressive, yes, but I wasn’t here to admire their wealth or their hospitality.

I was here for one reason: to meet the woman who would soon become my Luna. The woman I’d been forced into this arrangement with.

The thought even made me angry.

The Silverclaw Hollow pack were known for their wealth and tradition. A long table stretched across the room, laden with dishes that showcased the pack’s finest culinary skills—roasted meats, fresh fruits, and delicacies that even I couldn’t identify. But the centerpiece of the evening wasn’t the food or the decoration.

It was the pack master flutist, who is renowned throughout Silverclaw Hollow pack for his music, played a haunting melody that filled the hall. It was so mesmerizing; for a moment, I was enjoying it. My wolf, however, was restless.

Growl.

The sound reverberated in my mind, low and deep. I stiffened, my hand tightening around the glass of wine I held. My wolf was never this agitated without reason. I pushed back against the unease, focusing instead on the music, but it was no use. The growl came again, this time more insistent.

I straightened in my chair, scanning the room. My wolf’s presence surged to the forefront of my mind, his energy raw and electric. Mate. The word echoed in my head, it was so primal and undeniable.

Mate?

I frowned, trying to make sense of the sudden surge of emotions. The bond was there, pulling at me with an intensity I’d never felt before, but it was confusing, disorienting. Where was it coming from?

The doors to the dining hall opened, and my wolf growled again, louder this time. I turned toward the entrance door; I felt my heart pounding hard against my ribs. Two women entered; this called the attention of everyone in the room.

A woman strode in with confidence, her dress a deep crimson that clung to her body like a second skin. It looked provocative, the neckline plunging low to reveal her ample cleavage. Her face was heavily made up, her lips painted a bold red that matched her dress.

She moved gracefully, her hips swaying as she approached the long dining table. she smiles as she came closer.

My wolf stirred again, but restless this time, there was no growl. No pull. Nothing. The bond that had surged moments before has falling silent. Confusion swept over me. This woman was the one they said will be my mate, but there was no spark, no primal connection that screamed mate.

She stopped in front of me, her eyes locking onto mine. “Alpha Nickolas,” she said. “Welcome to Silverclaw Hollow. I’m Delilah.” she smiled at me. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

I inclined my head politely. “Thank you,” I replied. I noticed something about her felt off. She was trying too hard, as though she was performing for an audience.

Delilah extended a hand. I hesitated for a second before taking it. Her skin was soft, her grip firm, but still, there was no spark. No connection. My wolf didn’t even stir.

She seemed to sense my lack of response. “I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s an honor to finally meet you.” She spoke.

Before I could respond, another woman entered the room. I felt my wolf roared again. I clenched my jaw, trying to maintain my composure.

Mate.

The word slammed into me with the weight of a thunderclap. My head snapped toward the new arrival, and my breath caught in my throat.

She wore a modest gown of midnight blue; the fabric was flowing around her as she moved. The gown hugged her figure in all the right places without revealing. Her hair was swept back in a simple style, and her face was free of heavy makeup unlike Delilah, she looked natural and beautiful.

My wolf surged forward, growling with an intensity that nearly made me lose control.

I couldn’t look away.

My senses sharpened, every detail of her becoming painfully clear—the soft curve of her lips, the way her eyes scanned the room with a quiet confidence, the way she carried herself with a grace that seemed almost regal. She looked a bit older than Delilah.

My wolf growled low, the sound vibrating through my chest. This was her. My mate. The realization hit me hard, and I couldn't deny it. As she moved closer, I found myself gripping the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white. My wolf growled again, it was low and possessive, and I knew I can't deny it.

As she stopped at my sight, the bond grew stronger, it became unbearable. 

But immediately our eyes met, she quickly looked away.

Delilah noticed the shift in my attention and turned to see who had captured it. She smiled when she saw the woman. “Ah, my dear sister,” she said. “I'm here.”

Sister?

The woman’s shoulders stiffened, but she said nothing, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor. She moved to the far end of the table, avoiding my eyes, and sat quietly.

My wolf growled low in my chest, urging me forward, commanding me to claim her immediately. This wasn’t the time or place to act on the bond, but the pull was maddening.

Delilah leaned closer. “Shall we sit, Alpha?” she said.

I nodded absently, my focus still on the woman at the other end of the room. My mate.