Fated to Three Alpha Brothers

NO SCHOOL TODAY

SUMMER

I slept for about two hours that night. Not bad, I suppose.

By 6 AM, I was lying in the most beautiful bed I'd ever been in — wide enough for three people, with pillows that smelled like lavender— but all could think about was Finn Hale's hands in my hair. His hot breaths that smelled like alcohol, and his voice saying that word again and again.

Property, he'd said. Mine.

I pressed my palms flat against the mattress and breathed until my heart slowed again.

By 6.30 in the morning, I'd given up pretending like I was asleep. I sat up and looked around the room instead, because looking was something to do that wasn't remembering.

The east room, Elara had called it. It faced the rising sun, which meant by six, soft amber light was already beginning to press through the curtains — long, heavy curtains in a deep sage green, puddling slightly on the stone floor. The ceiling was high and crossed with dark timber beams. There was a writing desk in the corner with a small lamp, a bookshelf with actual books on it, an armchair by the window with a wool blanket folded over the arm.

It looked like a room someone had made ready on purpose. Not a spare room hastily prepared. A room waiting to be lived in.

I got up and crossed to the window first, pushing the curtain aside.

The garden spread out below in the early morning quiet, still and silver-green in the first light. It was vast — more than I'd expected, more than I'd been able to see in the dark last night. A wide stone terrace ran along the back of the estate, and beyond it the garden opened into something that looked almost like a small kingdom.

On the left, a pool stretched long and still as a mirror, the water catching the pale sky and throwing it back. Stone lounge chairs lined one edge, and in the far corner, a willow tree trailed its fingers in the water.

On the right, a fountain rose from the center of a circular courtyard, and beyond it — this was the part that made me press closer to the glass — a labyrinth. Low hedges, trimmed precise and dark green, winding in careful geometry toward the tree line. The paths disappeared and reappeared from this angle, and I couldn't see the center of it from here. I found, strangely, that I wanted to.

Beyond all of it: the woods. Dense and old and quiet, the same woods I'd run through last night in a ruined white dress. From up here, in the morning light, they looked different. Less like something to escape through. More like something standing guard.

I watched the garden for a long time, until the light had shifted from silver to gold and birdsong had started up somewhere in the ivy below.

Then I turned around and discovered the closet.

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It was not a closet in the way my closet at home was a closet — a small sad space with three pairs of jeans and a hanging rail that listed slightly to the left. This was a room. A room with soft lighting that came on automatically and smelled like cedar and something floral, with racks that ran along three walls and a center island with drawers, a full-length mirror at the far end.

It was full of clothes.

Not crammed — carefully arranged, with space between the hangers, organized by color in a long gentle gradient from white to cream to blush to deeper tones. Folded knitwear on the shelves. Shoes in a rack below, still in their boxes. A row of dresses on one side, casual pieces on the other.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, trying to work out how I felt about this.

Someone had done this. Before last night. Before I'd even decided to come.

A room waiting to be lived in.

I found a simple black dress — structured enough to feel put-together, relaxed enough to not feel like I was trying too hard — and pulled it from the rack. Then I found the en-suite bathroom, which was its own separate shock: marble and warm lighting and a shower big enough to turn around in, with an array of products arranged on a shelf that suggested someone had actually thought about what a person might need.

I stood under the hot water for a long time, until my fingers pruned and the chill from the night before finally let go of my shoulders. I did my best not to look too closely at the bruising on my wrist where Finn had grabbed me, the scrapes on my knees still raw from the dirt.

Fine, I told myself, the way I'd learned to. It's fine.

Even though I was technically fine, something inside of me knew I wasn’t. What would Finn do to me when I have to go back to school on Monday? I didn’t even dare to think.

I stepped out of the shower and dried myself, using the very nice and fancy hairdryer they had prepared. Then somewhere in between my daydream and worries, I heard a knock on the door.

“Miss Summer,” The maid’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Breakfast is ready downstairs.”

I didn’t have time to keep thinking about Finn. I quickly got dressed, ran my fingers through my hair, and went outside to find the breakfast room.

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I followed the smell of coffee.

It led me down the main staircase, through the entrance hall where I'd stood last night in my ruined dress, and through a set of double doors that opened into a room flooded with morning light.

The breakfast room was warm and generous, with tall windows along one wall overlooking the stone terrace. A long table ran down the center, set simply — white cloth, fresh flowers in a low vase, a spread of things arranged in the middle. Pastries, fruit, a pot of coffee already steaming.

Five people sat at it, distributed in the loose, particular way of a family that has been eating together long enough to have settled into their own gravitational positions.

Alpha Darren sat at the head, as expected — a broadsheet open beside his coffee, reading something on his iPad with the unhurried ease of a man in his own territory. Luna Elara was to his left, a cup of tea between both hands, and she looked up the moment I appeared in the doorway, her face opening into something warm and immediate.

The three boys were spread further down the table, each in their own world.

Logan was at the far end, a book propped open against the fruit bowl, reading with the particular focus of someone who has made it clear, without words, that he is technically present and would prefer to stay somewhere else. He hadn't looked up.

Maddox was across from him, and he was —

I paused in the doorway.

He was playing a harmonica. Small, silver, held loosely between his fingers, a soft meandering melody that seemed to be going wherever it wanted. His long legs were stretched out under the table, and he looked entirely unbothered by the fact that he was making music at breakfast.

And Rhett —

Rhett was in the corner furthest from the windows, angled slightly away from the rest of the table, a sketchbook open in front of him. His hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes, and from here I couldn't see what he was drawing. He wasn't eating. His coffee sat untouched beside him.

Act normal, Summer. Act normal.

"Summer." Elara stood, and the warmth in her voice made the room feel smaller and less terrifying. "Good morning. Come, sit down."

The harmonica stopped. Maddox lowered it and looked over. Rhett glanced up briefly, then back down. Logan turned a page.

I crossed to the table and sat in the empty chair nearest Elara, folding my hands in my lap in a way that I hoped looked like a person who was calm and fine and had absolutely slept.

A maid appeared at my elbow with a coffee pot. “Some coffee, miss?”

"Yes, please," I said gratefully.

"How did you sleep?" Elara asked, and her eyes did the same cataloguing thing they'd done last night — not intrusive, just present. Noticing.

"Really well," I lied. "The room is beautiful. Thank you for preparing everything."

It came out smoothly. I'd had practice lying about sleep.

Elara held my gaze for just a fraction of a second longer than the answer warranted. "Good, I’m glad you slept well, and luckily the clothes fit you well." she said with a smile. “We weren’t sure if you were coming since we never heard back, we couldn’t prepare much at all.”

Couldn’t prepare much at all? Everything in that closet was far nicer than anything I’ve ever owned myself.

Alpha Darren then put his iPad down and looked at me over his coffee. "No school today."

"Saturday," I confirmed.

"You'll need to think about school going forward," he said — not pressing, just setting it on the table alongside everything else. "The boys go to Hearthstone Prep. It's close, it's a good school, and —" he paused, considering, "You'd be known there as one of ours, so no one would bother you."

- - - To be continued - - -