The Warrior's Broken Mate

CHAPTER 3

“You know what? Forget it. I need to get back to training,” Alpha Elias said, positioning himself squarely in front of the door, using his body to block it completely. His reputation in the pack depended on discipline—he couldn't let Luna Seraphina undermine that right now. The doorknob went still in an instant. I could see the shadow of his boots just under the crack—he wasn’t letting Luna Seraphina open it.

“Well, my husband’s been searching for you everywhere,” she replied with a hint of irritation in her voice.

Their footsteps retreated down the hallway, finally fading into silence. I slumped back against the bathroom door and exhaled in relief, my heart pounding far too loud in my ears.

Eventually, I finished cleaning his room. Curiosity won—I peeked out the window. Everyone had gathered on the south training field.

Alpha Elias stood at the center, giving sharp instructions and demonstrating battle techniques. Warriors from the Vanguards Pack worked with ours, mimicking the stances.

The Vanguards wolves were massive. I couldn’t stop comparing—how could we ever match their strength? My stomach knotted with anxious doubt. Was I destined to always feel smaller, weaker, never measuring up?

I lingered too long, fixated on the field. What would it feel like to be strong, to run free? The craving stung, pulling me from the grim reality of my own weakness. The sudden footsteps jolted me—proof that my brief escape, even in thought, was dangerous.

As the footsteps passed, a faint scent drifted to me—feminine, polished. Luna Seraphina. I stayed hidden, completely still, until I was certain she had gone. I had no desire to cross paths with her again, not after how close she came to unlocking that door.

By the time I finished tidying Alpha Elias’s room, the others were returning inside for lunch. I rushed to the kitchen just in time to start preparing the meal. My body screamed in protest, every silver burn a fresh reminder of what disobedience earned me, but I ignored the pain because I knew failure meant punishment. I forced my hands to keep moving.

Steak and vegetables—simple, filling, and expected. I moved as quickly as I could, every second counted. That’s when my father, Thorne, walked into the kitchen. One look at his face told me exactly what he thought of my performance: I was too slow, too weak. He didn’t even need to speak.

I didn’t dare meet his eyes.

I worked in silence, pushing through the burning ache in my arms, until the food was plated and ready. The kitchen staff came in to take it to the dining room, and I seized the chance to get out of there. I slipped away quickly, praying Father wouldn’t follow.

He didn’t. Not yet.

But I knew his anger hadn’t faded. It never did. I would face the consequences later. I always did.

For now, I climbed the stairs up to the attic. My prison. My hiding place. My only sanctuary. Once inside, I sank down onto my bed, every part of me tensed in dread. I could already feel my pulse racing. My hands trembled slightly as the familiar panic set in.

To calm myself, I picked up a worn paperback from the stack beside my bed. Reading was the only thing that helped. It didn’t always stop the anxiety, but it dulled the edge. It made the loneliness a little more bearable.

Books were the one place where I felt seen. Like the characters were speaking to me, like the author had written those words just for my eyes. In those stories, people had lives—real lives. They walked freely, spoke freely, lived without fear of punishment.

I envied them so deeply it hurt.

They weren’t locked away. They weren’t beaten for speaking out of turn. They didn’t flinch every time someone entered a room.

I’ve spent my entire life in this attic. Father controls everything—my world shrunk to this room, my memories blurred by loneliness. I can’t remember what it feels like to meet someone new. Hiding seems permanent, as if I was never meant for more.

And still, I wonder what things would be like if my mother were alive.

Would she have protected me?

But I’ll never know. That’s not something I get to have. She’s gone, and I can’t undo what happened. I can’t undo what I did.

Everyone assumes she died by accident, but I know the truth. I was the cause. That’s not something people forgive. Not something anyone wants to understand.

I’m supposed to be the heir. But hearing Father whisper to his Beta, I knew: he hopes Seraphina gives him a son. My existence doesn’t just disappoint him—it’s inconvenient, something he buries in silence.

A son. Not me.

Maybe that’s why I’m tucked away here—just a girl, unseen, silenced, always somewhere I don’t belong. Father says girls belong in kitchens, not leading packs. Sometimes, I almost believe him.

And I guess he must be right. Because all I ever do is cook. And clean.

Once lunch had ended, I made my way cautiously down the attic stairs. Pressing my ear against the door, I listened intently for any sounds in the hallway. Hearing nothing, I slowly pushed the door open and stepped out.

“Well, so there is someone living up in the attic,” a male voice came from behind me. I spun around so quickly that I nearly lost my balance, and the man reached out, gripping my arm firmly to steady me. Where his hand met my skin, an unfamiliar jolt of warmth—like tiny electric sparks—raced up my arm. He must have been curious about rumors of someone hidden away.

Then I got a proper look at him. He was stunning—messy sandy blond hair that somehow looked effortlessly good, tall and athletic, wearing nothing but workout shorts that exposed his chiseled torso and a defined V-line that disappeared into the waistband.

I stood frozen, staring like an i***t. My mind was reeling; I couldn’t think properly. He was easily the most attractive man I had ever seen. But then reality snapped back into focus. I was speaking to someone. That wasn’t allowed. I wasn’t permitted to talk to anyone except Father and Luna. Instantly, I dropped my gaze to the floor in shame.

“I’m Alpha Elias. And you are?” he asked softly.

“I’m… no one,” I stammered.

“You’re clearly someone. You’re standing right in front of me,” he replied calmly.

“What’s going on here?” boomed a voice from the far end of the hallway—Father. My heart lurched violently in my chest, and I felt dizzy. Alpha Elias had to steady me again to keep me upright.

“Who is this girl?” Alpha Elias demanded.

“She’s no one,” Thorne replied coldly.

“That’s what she told me. But who is she really? What is she to you?” Elias pressed.

Father’s glare slices through me. I always drop my head—that’s what he expects. But why do I feel so much guilt? I didn’t choose to be his daughter. My pulse flutters with the desperate wish for a different fate, one where I’m wanted, one where I didn’t ruin everything.

“She’s a mistake,” Thorne growled.

“The only mistake I see here is you—and that venomous woman you call your mate,” Elias snapped, his tone sharp with anger. Seraphina placed a hand over her heart, clearly offended.

“Watch your tongue. You’ll regret speaking of my wife that way. And who do you think you are, addressing me like that?” Thorne barked, stepping forward.

That’s when Alpha Elias shifted his stance. He reached around me and pulled me behind him, shielding me with his body as he faced off with Thorne.

“Why do you even care?” Thorne spat. “She’s nothing. She’s no one.”

“She’s my mate,” Alpha Elias roared, his voice echoing through the hall like thunder.

Everything went dead quiet.

Especially me.