The Wrong Mate

CHAPTER 2

Rachel runs.

Not walks. Not backs away politely with some excuse about needing air. She turns and bolts like the room itself has turned on her. One second she’s beside me, her arm still looped through mine, her breath sharp in my ear, and the next she’s gone, weaving through silk dresses and startled bodies, heels abandoned somewhere behind her like they never mattered in the first place.

I stay exactly where I am.

Completely stuck.

My feet won’t move. My lungs forget how to work properly. Every sound in the hall feels too loud now, like someone turned the volume up just to watch me flinch. The music keeps playing. People keep laughing. Glasses clink. None of it slows down just because my world cracked open. Whispers ripple outward in widening circles. Heads turn. I feel eyes on me from every direction, curiosity and excitement and judgment tangled together into something heavy that presses down on my shoulders.

Mate.

The word still echoes in my skull like it branded itself there. It doesn’t fade. It doesn’t soften. It just sits, sharp and ugly and permanent.

I don’t know what to do. There’s no script for this. No polite response. No graceful way to undo fate in front of an entire pack. My wolf is a useless knot of panic inside my chest, pacing back and forth, nails scraping, snarling at shadows it can’t reach. It doesn’t surge. It doesn’t answer. It just spins, trapped right along with me.

Corey isn’t here.

That thought hits harder than anything else.

He’s not eighteen yet. He wasn’t allowed at the ball. He should be safe at home, removed from this mess, ignorant of it for at least a few more hours. I picture him in his room, maybe sprawled on his bed, maybe pacing, maybe brushing his teeth and getting ready for sleep like it’s a normal night. Except it’s not. It stopped being normal the second that word left Landon’s mouth.

Except he doesn’t know yet.

Or maybe he does.

Because mind links don’t care about age or permission or rules written down by the council. They move fast. Faster than footsteps. Faster than lies.

I feel it before I see anything else. That subtle shift in the air, the way several wolves straighten at once. The way conversations falter mid sentence. Someone’s already linked him. Someone decided he deserved to know while it was still unfolding, while I’m still standing here like a statue dressed up for sacrifice.

My throat tightens. I swallow hard and finally force my legs to move, one shaky step at a time.

Landon starts toward me.

Of course he does.

He looks exactly like he always does. Too confident. Too pleased with himself. Like this is just another thing he’s won without trying. His dark suit fits perfectly, his posture relaxed, his expression smug without quite tipping into cruel. His eyes track me with open ownership, and something sour and ugly coils low in my stomach.

“No,” I say, backing away before he even opens his mouth.

His brows lift, amused, like I just said something entertaining. “Easy, Cheyenne.”

I back up again. The crowd parts instinctively, giving us space like they know this isn’t entertainment anymore. Like some ancient instinct tells them to step back before something breaks. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might crack my ribs from the inside.

“I need air,” I blurt, not caring who hears me.

I turn and push through the nearest exit, my heels skidding slightly on the polished floor as I go. The doors swing open and cold night air slams into me, sharp and clean and grounding all at once. I suck it in greedily, bending forward with my hands braced on my knees, lungs burning like I might actually throw up.

For a second, all I can hear is my own breathing.

“Chey?”

Rachel.

I straighten slowly.

She’s a few yards away, near the stone railing that overlooks the training fields. The lights from the hall spill out just enough to catch the tear tracks on her face. Her mascara is smeared. Her shoulders are shaking. She looks small in a way I’ve never seen her before, like the ground dropped out from under her and she hasn’t figured out how to land yet.

“Rachel,” I breathe, my chest tight. “I didn’t-”

She whirls on me, eyes blazing through the tears. “Don’t.”

The word slices clean. It leaves nothing behind.

“I was sure,” she says, voice breaking. “I felt it. I felt something every time he looked at me. Every time he smirked, every time he spoke to me. I thought… I thought tonight was going to be it.”

My chest tightens painfully, like someone’s squeezing my heart with both hands. “Rach, I swear, I didn’t know. I didn’t want this. I don’t want him.”

She laughs, sharp and hysterical, the sound cracking at the edges. “Yeah? Well, fate didn’t ask you, did it?”

I take a step toward her without thinking. She steps back just as fast, putting distance between us like I’m the one who burned her.

“You stole him,” she says, and I flinch like she slapped me. “You always get everything without even trying.”

“That’s not fair,” I say, my voice cracking now too. “You know I love Corey. You know I was never-”

She shakes her head hard, curls bouncing wildly. “I can’t do this. I can’t look at you right now.”

“Rachel, please.”

But she’s already turning away, running again, disappearing into the dark beyond the lights like if she goes far enough, this won’t be real anymore.

I stand there alone, the night suddenly too quiet. The sounds from the hall feel distant now, muted and wrong, like they belong to a different world entirely.

My hands shake. I rub them together, then scrub them down my arms, trying to ground myself. Breathe in. Breathe out. Think. Corey. I need Corey. I need to hear his voice, feel his hands, know I’m not alone in this.

Footsteps crunch on gravel behind me.

Slow. Confident.

I know who it is before I turn.

Landon stops a few feet away, giving me space like he thinks that makes him respectful. His smile is gone now, replaced by something intent. Focused. Like a predator that’s stopped playing.

“Looks like your friend didn’t take it well,” he says calmly.

“Leave me alone,” I snap, spinning to face him.

He chuckles softly. “You’re really not getting it, are you?”

“I don’t care what you think this means,” I say, squaring my shoulders even though my knees feel weak. “I’m not interested. I’m not yours.”

He steps closer. I step back until my calves hit the cold stone railing behind me.

“You felt it,” he says, voice lower now. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I felt shock,” I spit. “That’s it.”

His gaze darkens. “You can’t reject me tonight. You know that. Not in front of the pack. Not when the bond’s fresh.”

“I didn’t choose you,” I say, every word tight with fury. “I already chose someone else.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he replies easily. Too easily. “This is bigger than your high school romance.”

My vision blurs with rage. “Don’t talk about Corey like that.”

“So he’s been told,” Landon says, tilting his head slightly. “I felt the link spike a few minutes ago. Your little secret didn’t stay secret long.”

My heart lurches painfully. “You had no right.”

“I have every right,” he says calmly. “I’m not rejecting you, Cheyenne. I’m claiming you. You’ll see. This will make sense once you stop fighting it.”

“I will never stop fighting this,” I say through clenched teeth.

Before he can respond, the night explodes.

A snarl tears through the air, raw and feral and furious, and suddenly Corey is there.

He comes out of the shadows like a storm given a body, eyes blazing gold, chest heaving like he ran the whole way here without stopping. His shirt is rumpled, his hair a mess, his control hanging by a thread. His friends fan out behind him, tense and ready, but his focus never leaves Landon.

“Get away from her,” Corey growls.

Relief and terror crash into me at the same time so hard my knees almost buckle. “Corey-”

Landon laughs. Actually laughs. “You shouldn’t be here, kid.”

Corey doesn’t slow down. “Touch her again and I’ll rip your throat out.”

The air crackles with dominance. Wolves nearby start to gather, drawn by instinct, by the promise of violence. I can feel the pack shifting, watching, waiting. This isn’t a private moment anymore. It’s a challenge.

“You’re not even of age,” Landon says coolly. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It concerns me,” Corey snarls, stepping between us without hesitation. “She’s mine.”

Landon’s eyes flick to me. “Is that true?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Something ugly flashes across Landon’s face, then it’s gone, replaced by steel. “Doesn’t change anything.”

Corey lunges.

The impact is brutal. They crash into each other with a sound like bone meeting stone, both snarling, fists flying, claws flashing in the spill of light. I scream Corey’s name as they slam into the railing, then the ground, rolling, fighting like nothing else exists.

“Stop!” I shout, but neither of them hears me.

Landon is bigger. Stronger. Trained for this kind of dominance his whole life. Corey fights like a cornered animal, wild and desperate and fueled by pure devotion. Blood hits the gravel, dark and shocking against the pale stone. Someone shouts for the Alpha. Someone else yells for them to break it up.

I drop to my knees, hands over my mouth, heart breaking with every blow.

This is my fault.

Fate may have started it, but this is where it’s leading.

And I have no idea how to stop it.