Mine By Right
1140 Words
Rhain's Pov
I feel it before I see it.
A shift in the wind.
A clawing in my chest.
A scent, burnt earth and cold magic, blowing through the pine trees like a ghost dragging chains behind it.
He’s back.
The one who should’ve stayed dead.
Vincent.
The name tastes like ash in my mouth. I didn’t even need to hear it from Maya, I knew the moment the mark on my back flared to life like someone had struck it with lightning.
I’m standing at the edge of the northern clearing, staring into the trees, fists clenched so tight I hear the bones c***k. My wolf snarls beneath my skin, pacing like a beast too long caged. He’s felt off for days. Restless. Agitated.
But now he’s alert. Focused.
Another male. Another bond. Another threat.
I should have known this wasn’t over.
I thought the past was buried with Vincent’s blood.
But power like his doesn’t rot. It waits.
And Maya, gods help me, is the storm in the middle of it all.
The mark on her shoulder called to me long before I saw it. A symbol of old blood, stronger than mating bonds, stronger than the Council’s laws. Something primal. Sacred.
And now… threatened.
I feel the ripple of it deep inside me, the clash of two ancient lines waking up inside her.
It’s like standing between two earthquakes.
And Marcus? He feels it too.
That bastard might be rotting in silver, but his tether to her hasn’t severed. I can feel him straining against it. His pain pulses through the leyline of Alpha energy like black oil through veins of fire.
He’s going to sense Vincent. He’s going to lose control.
And if Marcus breaks containment in Block Seven, the Council will have more than a rogue on their hands.
They’ll have a war.
I storm back into the pack house, slamming the door behind me so hard the wall quivers. My Beta, Cassian, is already in the hall waiting.
“She’s safe?” he asks without looking up.
“For now,” I grit. “But Vincent’s back.”
Cassian’s head lifts sharply. “The grave one?”
“The unburied one.”
He lets out a slow whistle. “That’s bad.”
“No,” I mutter, pacing. “That’s war.”
---
I can’t sit still. Every part of me feels… tight.
Tense in ways that have nothing to do with politics and everything to do with instinct. With need.
Maya’s scent is still all over my clothes, vanilla and jasmine, but underneath it, that raw electric note that sparks just for me. Not Marcus. Not even Vincent. Me.
She touched me.
And the mark responded.
That’s more than chance. That’s fate whispering, Mine.
But it’s a curse, too. A split-bond. Two true mates vying for one soul.
She’ll be torn apart. Unless one of us wins. Or dies.
---
Later that night, I shift.
I run the ridge just above the northern perimeter, letting the beast loose beneath the stars. My paws thunder against the stone, breath clouds around my snout, and my fur bristles against the wind.
Maya’s bond is a hook through my ribs now. She’s awake. I feel her fear like it’s my own heartbeat. Something’s happened.
He’s seen her.
Vincent has touched her.
That thought alone nearly makes me lose control mid-run.
I shift back, mid-leap, landing barefoot in the leaves. My body glistens with sweat and moonlight, but I don’t feel the cold. I feel rage.
The forest watches. The old spirits stir. Magic creaks in the air like a heavy door slowly opening. Something ancient is awakening in all of us.
And I don’t trust it.
---
Back at the house, I slam the whiskey bottle onto my desk and drag a hand through my hair. I’m not thinking clearly.
Maya, gods, Maya.
Her voice. Her resistance. Her hands against my chest.
The way she didn’t run fast enough.
She wants to hate me.
She wants to love Marcus.
But she feels the bond.
And now she feels his too.
Vincent.
I growl, low and guttural. My wolf is losing patience. He wants to take. To claim. To mark.
But she’s not ready.
She’s still in love with a ghost. Still haunted by her past.
And I’m no one’s second choice.
---
I reach for the pendant I wear beneath my shirt, an ancient sigil, passed down through generations of Alpha kings. It burns hot in my hand.
The mark on my back pulses in answer.
I lift my shirt. The crescent-and-crown symbol glows in the firelight. Identical to Maya’s. Identical to Vincent’s.
Three of us.
One mark.
That shouldn’t be possible.
The Blood Bond is sacred. It only chooses one pair in a generation. Sometimes two. But three?
Three means something else.
Something dangerous.
A prophecy.
I grit my teeth, remembering the old stories. Three marked wolves. One destined to fall. One to betray. One to ascend.
I don’t know who is who yet.
But I intend to survive.
---
A sharp knock slices through my thoughts.
Cassian again.
“Report from Block Seven,” he says grimly.
I stand immediately. “Go on.”
“Marcus is unstable. The silver isn’t working the way it should. He’s started… howling. Violently. Almost like he’s calling to her.”
“He is.”
Cassian hesitates. “He’s also saying Vincent’s name. Over and over.”
I close my eyes.
He knows.
Of course he does. Marcus has always had a spiritual connection with Maya stronger than any magic. When she breaks, he bleeds.
And she’s breaking.
“We need to lock him down,” I mutter. “Double the silver. Contact the warden. If he shifts in there, the whole Block’s compromised.”
“And Maya?” Cassian asks.
I pause.
Protecting her means claiming her.
And claiming her means making her choose.
I can’t force her. Not like he will.
But I can’t let her stay unprotected either.
“Bring her here,” I say.
“You think she’ll come?”
I glance at the dark window, at the forest full of secrets and shadows and wolves who refuse to stay dead.
“She’ll come,” I whisper. “Because I’m the only one left who hasn’t lied to her.”
Yet.
---
And as Cassian walks away, I feel it again, low and deep, the first drumbeat of fate moving in the marrow of my bones.
The game is no longer about power.
It’s about her.
And I’ll tear down every rule, every bloodline, every prophecy to make sure no other man—no dead lover, no jailed mate, no walking shadow—ever takes her from me.
She was mine the moment her mark called to mine.
And I don’t lose what’s mine.
- Writer
