FATE BULLSHIT

1606 Words
Tyra’s POV “You knew, didn’t you?” Lucius said again, his voice low but cutting through the room like a sharp knife. He squinted his eyes at Alaric. “Please tell me I’m wrong.” Before I could even begin to process the weight of what my stepfather had just said, Osric let out another growl, pulling everyone’s attention back to him. I looked back at him, backing away slowly. His eyes were pure, molten amber, a clear sign that his wolf was clawing at the surface. He was staring at me as if the rest of the world had completely dissolved into background noise. “It is you,” he breathed, his voice a mix of awe and sheer panic. "I cannot believe it has been you all this while and I’ve been waiting so long.” Just as he took another step toward me, my mother’s voice broke the silence first, her tone laced with a panic. “Ossy, hold on a minute. Stop right there.” She snapped her head toward her mate, her eyes wide. "Lucius, you said someone knew. Who knew what?" Lucius ran a hand through his hair, looking completely distressed, his usual calm demeanor cracking around the edges. "I think Alaric already knew about this mate issue, Anya.” “What?” My mother snapped, looking toward Alaric as if expecting him to instantly deny the claim. “Alaric, is this true?” He avoided her gaze, but the look on his face said it all. “What… why?” Anya whispered in horror and shock. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why would you keep this hidden?” Alaric’s hands curled into tight fists at his sides. “It was not the time,” he said in a low, defensive growl. For a heartbeat, no one moved, shock on all our faces except for Osric who was still too caught up in seeing his mate to pay attention to anything else. My heart sank to my stomach. No. He could not have said that so casually, so completely uncaringly. Did he hate me that much? I shrugged out of Osric’s reach, stumbling backward until my shoulder blades hit the cold wood of the wall behind me. “No... you are wrong,” I whispered, my voice trembling with panic. “That’s impossible. I am not your mate. I cannot be.” Osric let out a low, gut-wrenching whimper that went straight to my core. He took another step forward, his hands reaching out. “No, do not say that. Please, Tyra, don’t reject me.” Then his voice became more ragged as if he was completely about to lose control. “If you do, I don’t k…” Alaric suddenly flashed to us with terrifying speed and grabbed his brother’s collar just before he could touch me. “Enough!” He growled, pulling Osric back and stepping between us, his back to me as he glared down at his twin. “Control your wolf.” To anyone else, Alaric looked perfectly calm, but I could see the rigid tension in his shoulders. I immediately scrambled away from them to my mother’s side. Osric’s amber eyes squinted at him, then they widened with surprise. “She is your mate too, isn't she?” He whispered raspily. “I can feel your wolf's reaction ripping through our bond right now. So why are you doing this?” Alaric opened his mouth, then shut it. Osric paused as if he just realized something, tilting his head as his amber eyes began to bleed back into their normal, piercing blue. “You already knew. That is what Dad meant. You knew!” Osric shouted the last words, slamming his hands hard against Alaric’s chest, pushing his twin back a step. My pulse thundered in my ears as every memory of Alaric’s cold eyes, his clipped words, and his years of cruel rejection flashed through my mind. “I do not understand,” I whispered, my voice shaking so badly I could barely form the words. “You hated me... because I was his mate?” Alaric looked back at me then, his face in his usually impassive expression. "Do not jump to conclusions, Tyra,“ he hissed, his voice dropping into an icy, detached register. I staggered back as if he had physically struck me. A hot, agonizing pain twisted in my stomach at the cold look of rejection in his eyes. “Alaric, that cannot be true,” my mother gasped, stepping toward him. They all turned to him, waiting for an explanation. “You do not understand!” Alaric hissed in anger. "Dear goddess..." my mom whispered brokenly. The high-pitched hum in my head was becoming deafening, and my vision was blurring. I couldn’t let him see me break down. I was not a f*****g teenager anymore. I flinched when Osric suddenly lunged at Alaric and slammed him into the wall so hard the windows rattled. "You bastard!” He snarled. “What have you done?!" Alaric pushed him back immediately. “Get your hands off me.” “Both of you, stop this right now!” my mother screamed, her voice cracking like a whip. “This is not the time!” But Osric had already lunged at Alaric again. Using their distraction, I backed toward the doorway, turned, and ran. I fled up the stairs on unsteady legs, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I burst into my old bedroom, slammed the heavy oak door shut, and slid down against it until my knees hit my chest, shaking uncontrollably. “No, it is definitely a mistake,” I whispered, my voice sounding frantic, almost hysterical in the quiet room. “He is just confused. I do not even have a wolf, for goddess's sake. How could his wolf even identify me as a mate?” But my mind was refusing to listen to my logic. My heartbeat would not slow down, and when I closed my eyes, the echo of Osric’s rough voice and the heat of his gaze burned behind my eyelids. “Three weeks,” I murmured, pressing my forehead against my knees. “I just have to survive three weeks, and then I am gone.” I forced myself to stand, my legs feeling like jelly as I went to my bed. I flinched when something crashed below, signaling that the twins were still tearing each other apart. A soft, hesitant knock sounded on my door. “May I come in?” my mother called out gently. The door creaked open, and she stepped inside. Her eyes looked incredibly tired, her posture cautious as she closed the distance between us. “They are all down there talking. Lucius is trying to keep them from destroying everything.” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “Good luck with that. God, I should have never boarded that jet.” My mother reached out, her hand resting gently on my arm. “Do not say that. A fated mate is a sacred blessing.” I scoffed, pulling away from her touch as the “A blessing? Alaric hates me.” I hissed, old resentment flared hot in my chest. “Did you not see the look in his eyes just now? He has always looked at me like I am filth. He has always hated me.” “I do not think it is like that,” she said softly, her eyes saddening. “I am sure he has his reasons for the silence. Just keep an open mind, Tyra.” I rolled my eyes, turning my back to her to look out over the dark forest. “That is his business. I want absolutely nothing to do with this mate nonsense. The moment the ceremony is over, I am returning to my actual life in Beijing.” “Do not say that,” she scolded. “Sometimes fear looks a lot like cruelty. And sometimes, love hides right behind it.” She always did this. She always found a way to excuse their behavior, to smooth things over for the sake of her perfect new pack legacy. It was always about how I needed to approach them, how I needed to try harder, and never about me. I swallowed past the lump in my throat, my jaw tightening. “Do not call it love, Mom. We are way past the era where people claim a boy is mean to a girl because he likes her.” I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to drop before it turned into a scream. "Look, I’m a scientist, Mom." I bit out, the exhaustion finally turning into pure irritation. “I do not believe in fate bullshit.” My mother stared at me for a long moment before squeezing my hand. “I cannot say I fully understand how you feel,” she muttered, standing up. “But know that fate has its own timing, and fighting it never works.” I let out a long breath of relief the moment the door clicked shut. I collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. But the darkness brought no peace. Every time I blinked, I saw Alaric’s dark, unreadable eyes and heard the rough, primal longing in Osric’s voice. I pressed my palm flat against my chest, trying to ignore the strange warmth that was building deep within my chest. Stop it, I whispered to myself, curling into a tight ball underneath the sheets. I do not want any of this. I just want my life back.
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