Chapter 3

 Claire's POV 

Still barely conscious, I watched as he pulled me up by the scruff of my shirt and lowered his head to my neck. My body felt like it was on fire, and a deep sense of dread gripped my chest. It’s over, I thought. My life would end in ruin, in a cruel twist of fate. I was about to become a rogue werewolf—mateless, packless, with nothing to belong to. The horror of it all was suffocating.

"You know, you could have really made a nice plaything, but what I am about to do to you is in no way inferior," he growled, his voice rough and twisted with malice. His words slithered through my mind, filling me with disgust and revulsion.

"Fuck you!" The words came out barely louder than a whisper, but defiance flickered in my heart. A small victory.

The smile that broke out on his face made him look more impish than ever, a twisted satisfaction painting his features. "Oh yeah, remember that stunt you pulled earlier? This is payback!"

How could fate be this cruel? How had it led me here, to this hideous creature being my mate? I never could have seen this coming, not even in my worst nightmares. The shock of it all was overwhelming, my mind struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. This all started with a prank. A prank that somehow led to us discovering we were mates, and now it had spiraled into this chaos.

The darkness crept closer as my consciousness began to fade, and just when I thought I couldn’t bear it anymore, the door suddenly swung open. 

Dylan abruptly turned to see who the intruder was. I followed, turning slowly, too weak for any fast reactions. My body ached in protest. Through blurry vision, I saw my father standing at the door, his face etched with astonishment. My heart swelled with a flicker of hope.

"Dad?" I muttered, barely able to raise my voice above a whisper. My throat was dry, my words strangled by the pain.

He could only stare at us, his eyes widening with disbelief, unable to say anything. Beside him was the alpha, Dylan’s father, Wilson—his expression quickly shifting from one of confusion to something unreadable. 

Then, a man I didn’t recognize walked in behind Wilson, a strange presence in the room. 

I turned back to face my tormentor, but Dylan quickly let go of me, standing straight to face our new guests. My head connected painfully with the ground, but the physical pain barely registered in the wake of everything else.

My dad, as if on cue, rushed to my side, his voice filled with concern and a mix of fury. "Hey, baby, are you alright?"

I could feel the weight of his worry, but I didn't want to add to it. I wanted him to remain strong. "I'm fine, dad. How did you find me?" I whispered, my mind a hazy blur. 

"The others outside told me." His voice was strained, and I could hear the irritation in it. The music from the party was still blasting, and it made my head throb. 

"Don’t worry about me, dad; just go back to the alpha’s side," I said, managing a small smile, hoping to reassure him. 

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

"Don't sweat it; I will be fine," I replied, forcing another small smile. I hated that I had to say it, but it was the only way to keep him from losing his temper completely.

"Okay, if you insist." Reluctantly, he backed away, his face filled with tension, before grabbing a fistful of Dylan’s shirt. My heart raced as I felt the anger radiating off my father. 

"I really need to put you in the same condition you put Claire," my father muttered, his voice a low growl. 

As he lifted his fist to strike, Wilson stepped forward, his hand landing firmly on my father’s shoulder. The exchange of looks between them spoke volumes, unspoken tension, shared history, and deep loyalty. 

"What are you guys doing here?" my father demanded, trying to hold his composure.

"I should be asking you that!" Wilson snapped, his voice laced with disbelief. "What the hell were you doing here with that girl?"

"Nothing." Dylan's voice was weak, almost defensive, his pride clearly wounded. 

"Nothing!? And she is in that beaten-down shape?" Wilson’s voice rose in anger, his eyes flashing.

"I was trying to make a point," Dylan muttered, his tone defensive yet lacking conviction.

"With my daughter?" My father’s fury was evident now. I could feel his heat radiating, the protective instinct kicking in full force.

"What point were you actually trying to prove? That you are superior? That you could beat up anybody you like?" he added, his voice growing darker with every word.

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

I turned to see the man who had been standing in the shadows. Blake Caesar? The name struck me like a bolt of lightning, and I couldn’t help but stare at him, both surprised and relieved. He was more handsome than the rumors let on, but his expression was hard, focused, annoyed.

"So, what the hell are you doing here?" Dylan sneered, clearly rattled by the appearance of the new alpha.

Blake's eyes narrowed, irritation etched on his face. "Mind your station," he said coldly, his tone commanding. I could see the authority in his every move.

Wilson seemed to bristle at Blake's words, but the alpha didn’t 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 wasn’t sure what shocked me more, Blake’s sudden declaration or the fact that it was true. This was my moment of escape, my chance to break free from the torment. As much as I hated the idea of Dylan getting away with everything he’d done, I knew I had no choice. 

The tension in the room was palpable, every eye on me. My father and Wilson stood by, their expressions unreadable, but they weren’t stopping Blake. 

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

"That’s total bullshit!" Dylan shouted, his frustration bubbling over into rage.

Blake’s eyebrow arched in amusement, his posture relaxed despite Dylan’s outburst. "Is that so? What reason could that be?"

The words stung, and Dylan’s anger was apparent. "She’s my mate!"

"How is that even possible?" Wilson asked, his confusion mirroring my own. 

"It actually is, Father," Dylan replied with a twisted smile. He was still trying to make this about him.

I couldn’t take it any longer. Slowly, I crawled toward Blake, my body screaming with each movement. 

"No one treats their mate the way you just did, my daughter," my father finally said, his voice gruff but filled with unwavering determination.

"Ron, please calm down," Wilson tried to reason, but my father’s gaze remained locked on Dylan, full of fury.

"That doesn’t change the fact that she is my mate," Dylan whined, his voice turning into a petulant whine, like a child throwing a tantrum. 

"Not anymore, asshole!" I spat, finally reaching Blake’s feet. Every inch of my body screamed in pain, but I didn’t care anymore.

Before anyone could react, I placed my hand on Blake’s leg, my voice barely a whisper. With what little strength I had left, I forced out the words, "You….I choose you, Blake Caesar, to be my mate."