Mated To The Wrong Alpha

Future Father-in-law

Chapter 3

Freya's POV

“Where the hell have you been, Freya?”

My father’s voice cracks through the entrance hall the moment I step inside.

Servants freeze mid-step, trays trembling in their hands as they drop their gazes to the floor. His Alpha aura presses down, thick and suffocating, making my wolf shrink back inside me.

I swallow hard, every nerve twisting tight in my belly. Every step sends a throb between my legs, the deep soreness flaring hot. “I… I went for a walk, Papa.”

His eyes narrow, raking over me. He already wears his formal black suit, silver cufflinks catching the light like warnings.

“A walk? You reek of excuses, young lady! Get upstairs and dress. Now. We are to arrive soon.”

Heat rushes to my face. My hands curl into fists. “I don’t want this marriage. You can’t just trade me away like—”

The rest of the words barely leaves my lips when a hand lands hard across my cheek, snapping my head sideways. Pain explodes, hot and stinging. Tears burn my eyes as blood touches my tongue from my split lip.

“Remember your duty,” he snarls, his voice low and venomous. “This is for the pack. We’ve lost too many wolves to the rogues and border wars. The Stormfang are ruthless—their warriors rip enemies apart limb by limb, their Alpha executes traitors by hunting them down. This alliance is our survival. Smile, obey, and seal it.”

Tears stream from my eyes as I spin and storm upstairs, my wolf, Yara, whining pitifully.

I shove my bedroom door open and slam it behind me, but it barely clicks before it eases open again.

“Who–”

I pause when Mom slips in first, followed by my younger sisters, Liora and Eva.

Their faces are pale, their eyes soft with weary pity.

“Oh, my girl,” Mom breathes, pulling me straight into her arms.

I shatter against her chest, sobs ripping free as the slap’s sting more and more. She strokes my hair, murmuring, “It’s for the best, Freya. You might even find happiness there. Julian is said to be good.”

I pull back, wiping my wet cheeks. “Happiness? I’ve heard what they do in Stormfang, Mom. Their Alpha tears challengers apart with his bare hands. They hunt traitors like prey. How am I supposed to live there alone, without you, without Liora and Eva?”

My little sister, Liora, takes my hand, squeezing gently. “You’re stronger than all of us, Freya. We’ll visit whenever we can.”

Eva nods, offering a tiny smile. “And you’re stunning. Anyone would fight to keep you.”

Mom cups my face carefully, her thumb brushing below the reddening mark. “Dry your eyes now. Dress quickly before your father’s anger grows worse. I’m sure you don't want to get on his bad side.”

I chuckle at that. Aren't I already?

My sisters take charge, helping me into the elegant cream gown that awaits. Liora brushes my hair into soft waves while Eva applies makeup with light touches.

“Look at you, Freya. That dress fits like it was made for your curves. I’m sure Julian won’t be able to look away.” Eva teases, giggling softly.

My heart flickers at the thought. This was really happening.

When they finish, I stand before the mirror. My reflection stares back. My eyes are still glassy, cheek faintly pink beneath the powder. I look beautiful and composed.

Good. Now I look like the perfect alliance prize my father wants.

How great.

“Girls, it’s time,” Mom calls from the hallway.

I draw in one last shaky breath. The dull throb between my thighs flares as I move. The doctor’s warning rings clear in my head: “no s*x for at least two weeks.” Even if Julian and I seal the engagement, I won’t allow it. I’ll never carry his child like Dad wants.

We ride to Stormfang territory in heavy silence. This is my first time crossing their border, and I can’t stop staring. Towering pines open into sweeping grounds, grand stone buildings rising elegant and strong, gardens blooming under the sun. It feels… beautiful.

Far more than I imagined.

We enter the grand hall of the Stormfang pack house. White flowers cascade from the chandeliers, tables gleam with silver, and high-ranking wolves mingle in formal attire. Crimson and Stormfang banners hang side by side.

Stupid s**t.

The engagement lunch begins with careful conversation and clinking glasses. I fight the urge to reach for a drink—anything to numb the soreness and the dread but my father’s stare from across the room stops me cold. He speaks with someone, then breaks away and strides straight to me.

“Freya,” he calls smoothly for the crowd. “Meet your future husband. Julian Cross, son of Alpha Ronan.”

My breath catches. Julian is tall, broad-shouldered, with good features and warm brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles. He’s handsome. Not the cold figure I heard.

He takes my hand gently and brushes a soft kiss across my knuckles. “Freya, it’s a pleasure. You’re even lovelier than I imagined.”

Butterflies stir unexpectedly in my stomach. His voice is smooth, respectful. Maybe this won’t destroy me after all.

“Thank you,” I murmur, a small smile tugging at my lips.

We fall into light talk for some minutes when a deep, commanding voice cuts through the hall.

“Ladies and gentlemen, a toast.”

Julian and I turn together. Alpha Ronan Cross stands at the front, glass raised, his powerful frame filling the space in a black suit and intense eyes sweeping the room.

My blood turns to ice.

Why does he look so familiar?