The Fated Mate

One day

The sun was already climbing when the soft hum of a car pulled into the driveway. Rebekah didn’t hear it. She didn’t hear her mother’s footsteps down the hall either, or the quiet exchange of voices by the front door. She was lost in sleep, curled beneath her blankets, tangled in the chaos of her room—the aftermath of last night’s rage.

Her alarm had gone off an hour ago. She hadn’t even stirred.

“Morning, Maddie. Tyler. I’m glad you came,” her mother’s voice carried into the entryway, full of relief. “She… she had a terrible night. Please keep an eye on her today. She could really use her friends.”

Maddie’s gentle voice answered first, bright and steady. “Of course, Mrs. Hale. We’ll take care of her.”

Tyler, less subtle, added, “Don’t worry, we’ll drag her out of bed if we have to.”

Rebekah’s mom chuckled weakly, though her eyes betrayed her worry. She stepped aside, letting them in. “Go on up. She hasn’t come down for breakfast.”

Maddie and Tyler padded up the familiar stairs, Maddie’s strawberry-blonde braid swinging against her back, Tyler’s sneakers squeaking softly on the wooden steps. They paused outside Rebekah’s door. The silence inside felt heavy, like the air after a storm.

Maddie turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The room was a wreck. A toppled chair lay against the far wall. Clothes were strewn in heaps, her jewelry box overturned on the floor. A cracked picture frame leaned at an awkward angle near the desk. It was the kind of scene you’d expect after a wild party, not from Rebekah, who usually kept things tidy.

“Yikes,” Tyler muttered under his breath.

“Shh,” Maddie hissed, shooting him a look before crossing to the bed. She knelt down, brushing hair from Rebekah’s face. “Hey, Bek. Wake up. You’re going to be late for school.”

Rebekah stirred, blinking against the morning light. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her throat raw. For a second she forgot where she was, forgot why Maddie’s face hovered over her. Then the memory of yesterday—the classroom humiliation, Zane’s apology, the walk of shame to her locker—came rushing back, hitting her like a punch to the chest.

She groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. “No. Not today.”

Tyler walked over and tugged the blanket away, ignoring her weak protest. “Come on, Bek. Don’t let Adrianna win. You skip today, she’ll know she got to you.”

Maddie perched on the edge of the bed, her voice softer. “We’re not letting you hide. You’ve got us. We’ll get through it together.” She glanced around the mess and sighed. “Honestly, Bek, what happened in here?”

Rebekah flushed. “Nothing.”

Tyler snorted. “Yeah, nothing. Looks like a tornado threw a tantrum.”

“Tyler,” Maddie scolded, though she shot him a quick smile before rising to her feet. Without another word, she began tidying the room—straightening the chair, gathering scattered clothes into a neat pile, setting the jewelry box back on the desk. Her movements were efficient, steady, grounding.

Rebekah sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. She hated how exposed she felt, hated that her friends could see the wreckage of her breakdown. But Maddie didn’t judge, and Tyler was pretending to busy himself examining a comic book he’d pulled from the floor.

“Thanks,” Rebekah whispered.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Maddie said simply, giving her a small smile.

Twenty minutes later, after fresh clothes and half-hearted makeup, Rebekah emerged from the bathroom. Her eyes still betrayed her exhaustion, but she looked presentable enough. Her mom peeked out from the kitchen as the trio headed for the door.

“Better,” her mom said softly, her gaze lingering on Rebekah. “Have a good day, sweetheart.”

Rebekah managed a tiny nod before following her friends outside.

The ride to school was quiet at first. Tyler drove—his dad’s old pickup, with a missing hubcap and a cassette player that only worked when you smacked it twice. Maddie sat in the middle, fiddling with the radio until a pop station fuzzed into focus.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Rebekah said after a long silence.

“We’re not babysitting,” Maddie said firmly. “We’re making sure our best friend doesn’t drown herself in self-pity.”

Tyler grinned. “And we’re providing top-tier entertainment along the way. Want to hear my impersonation of Mrs. Cartwright’s algebra voice?”

“No,” Rebekah muttered.

He did it anyway, pitching his voice into a nasal whine. “‘If x equals the square root of pathetic, then what is y? Anyone? Anyone?’”

Despite herself, Rebekah let out a weak laugh.

“There it is!” Tyler cheered. “A laugh. Mission accomplished.”

The tension in her chest eased just a little. She leaned her head against the window, watching the familiar landscape roll past—the same sidewalks, the same shops, the woods beyond the edge of town. Nothing had changed, yet she felt like everything inside her had cracked open.

By the time they pulled into the school parking lot, the chatter of other students filled the air. Wolves, mostly, all buzzing with the energy of the first week back. Seniors strutted with the confidence of their last year, while juniors looked eager to follow in their footsteps.

Rebekah clutched her bag a little tighter as they crossed the lot.

“Remember,” Tyler said under his breath, “heads high. Don’t give Adrianna the satisfaction.”

It was as if the universe had been listening. Just as they stepped onto the front walk, Adrianna appeared with her two shadows, Claire and Selena. All three looked effortlessly perfect—shiny hair, flawless skin, clothes that seemed custom-designed for them. They walked in sync, like predators gliding toward prey.

Adrianna’s gaze locked on Rebekah.

She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. As she passed, she deliberately brushed her shoulder against Rebekah’s, just hard enough to make her stumble. Her lips curved into the faintest smirk before she disappeared into the crowd.

Rebekah froze, heart thudding.

“Ugh, she’s insufferable,” Maddie muttered. “You’d think being pretty came with a personality.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “One day she’s going to trip in those ridiculous heels, and I’m going to laugh so hard.”

Rebekah tried to smile at their jokes, but the knot in her stomach only tightened. Adrianna’s silent promise lingered like a shadow.

The morning dragged. Teachers passed out syllabi and talked about graduation requirements, about internships and college applications. Everyone else seemed excited, buzzing about their futures. Rebekah doodled in the margins of her notebook, her thoughts miles away.

She hadn’t shifted yet. At seventeen, most wolves already had. Maddie had shifted last spring, Tyler two months ago. But not her. She kept that secret locked tight. If Adrianna ever found out, the humiliation would be unbearable.

At lunch, they gathered at their usual table in the far corner of the cafeteria. Tyler launched into a dramatic retelling of his summer job at the library, complete with impersonations of cranky patrons. Maddie rolled her eyes but laughed.

For a moment, Rebekah almost felt normal again.

Until she glanced across the room.

Zane was there.

He stood out without trying—tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair falling just right. He carried himself with a confidence that drew eyes without demanding them. Every move seemed to echo the promise of Alpha blood.

And Adrianna was right beside him, laughing too loudly at something he said, touching his arm like she already owned him.

Rebekah’s heart clenched.

Maddie noticed her stare and nudged her. “He’s not worth it, Bek. Seriously.”

“I wasn’t—” Rebekah started, but her cheeks burned, betraying her.

Tyler groaned. “Great. We’ve lost her to the Zane vortex again.”

Rebekah forced a laugh, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being invisible, of existing on the edges of a world she’d never belong to.

After school, the exhaustion returned like a wave. She trudged home with her friends, said goodbye at the curb, and slipped inside the house.

Her parents greeted her at the door. Her dad asked about her day, but she mumbled a quick “fine” and escaped upstairs.

Her room was clean now, thanks to Maddie. But the quiet pressed down on her. She collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling.

Why am I so weak? Why can’t I be more?

Her thoughts spiraled. Adrianna’s glare. Zane’s effortless magnetism. The whispers about mates and Alphas. Her own secret—unshifted, ordinary.

Her chest ached with shame. But under it all, something else stirred.

Anger.

She sat up, fists clenching. Her pulse raced, hot and heavy. She wanted to scream, to break something, to prove she wasn’t nothing. But the house was too quiet, her parents’ footsteps just below. She bit her lip until she tasted blood.

Tears welled, burning her eyes. She swiped them away and whispered into the silence:

“One day. One day I’ll show them all.”

Her voice trembled, but the promise lodged itself deep, fierce and unyielding.

She didn’t know how, or when. But she felt it—the storm building inside her, waiting to be unleashed.