Claimed By Her Step Brothers; Theirs To Own

Episode3

CHAPTER THREE

~~FREYA ASHWOOD~~

The Town Hall was finally in sight. Polished carriages and sleek SUVs lined the drive.

I slipped through the service entrance, hoping to be invincible to the others. But as soon as I hit the industrial light of the kitchen, the head cook, Clara, stopped mid-shout. Her eyes raked over my torn shirt and the blood drying on my chin.

"Freya? Look at you! You look like something a stray cat dragged in."

She didn't ask if I was okay. She didn't see the trauma in my eyes. She only saw a smudge on her pristine reputation. "Get to the closet. Scrub that filth off your face before you poison the air. If the Alpha sees you like this, we’re all dead."

I spent five minutes at the utility sink, the cold water stinging my raw skin. Outside the door, the muffled sound of violins and laughter taunted me.

I wasn't a guest. I was the help. But somewhere in that room, there might be the man who was supposed to be my other half.

I cracked the door to the main hall. It was a sea of silk and ego. Then I saw her. Brianna, draped in emerald, looking like a queen. Our eyes met for a split second. Her smile didn't just fade; it curdled into a look of such profound pity that it hurt worse than the Rogue’s claws. She turned away, sharing laughter with the Alpha’s son.

Then, I saw him.

Alpha Damien. My father.

He stood at the head table, looking every ounce arrogant.

He hadn't aged; he had only become more encased in his own power. As if sensing a parasite in the room, his head snapped toward the kitchen door.

His gaze locked onto mine. There was no recognition of a daughter. There was only the same cold, sharp disgust that had followed me since I was six. You are still alive, his eyes seemed to say. What a disappointment.

Going back to his pack wouldn't just be an exile. It would be an execution of my soul.

“May I have your attention!”

The host’s voice cut through my panic. I ducked behind a massive floral arrangement, my heart hammering against my ribs.

She began the roll call of Alphas. When she reached my father, the applause was deafening. He was the "Great Reformer," the "Wealthy Warrior." No one mentioned the daughter he’d discarded like a broken toy.

“And the future of the Crescent Pack!” the host beamed. “The Ashwood Triplets!”

Three men stepped forward. My breath hitched. I hadn't seen them in all my life. The number of years I spent in the pack, I’d never came across them. They were a terrifying triptych of power.

One of them had a mirror image of father. Silver hair, cold eyes.

My eyes landed on the other and my heart stopped. Dark hair that fell in waves over his shoulders, golden eyes that held too much familiarity. The wolf from the woods. My "Savior" stood there in a tailored suit, his expression as blank and icy as it had been in the dirt. He didn’t look so impressed at my sight.

The third brother. His hair was a wilder brown, his eyes a piercing, restless green.

As his gaze swept the room, it snagged on me.

And all of a sudden, I felt it.

A violent, white-hot jolt of electricity shot through my spine, making my knees buckle. My inner wolf, let out a piercing, agonizing howl.

Mate.

My vision blurred. No. Please, Goddess, no. To find my mate in the bloodline that destroyed me? In the sons of the man who wished I were dead?

In my shock, I stepped back. My heel caught a stray cable. I flailed, reaching for anything to steady myself. My hand caught the edge of a silver tray.

CRASH.

The sound of twenty champagne flutes shattering was like a thunderclap in the silent hall. Crystal shards sprayed across the marble. Champagne soaked my faded jeans, turning the fabric heavy and cold.

It didn’t take long for Clara to stride into the scene.

"Freya! You useless, clumsy brat!" Clara’s voice shrieked, echoing off the high ceilings.

She grabbed my arm, yanking me up into the light. A thousand eyes bore into me. I heard the whispers;

The abandoned daughter. The failure. Look at her.

I looked at the stage. The triplets looked revolted. Though, my mate… he was frozen. A muscle ticked in his jaw, his green eyes burning with a dark, unreadable fire. He didn't move to help. He just watched me drown in my own shame.