Fated to the Alpha I hate

Lyra's POV I had imagined his death a thousand different ways. Quick. Clean. Efficient. A blade to the throat before he even knew I was there. Or slower, something that would make him understand what it meant to lose everything, piece by piece, breath by breath. But never like this. Never with my pulse betraying me. Never with my wolf restless beneath my skin, pacing like it sensed something I did not. I tightened my grip on the dagger until the familiar bite of metal steadied me. This was nothing. Just instinct. Just the hunt. The guards at the northern gate never saw me coming. They never do. By the time the first one sensed movement behind him, my blade had already slid between his ribs, angled upward to silence him before he could cry out. His body stiffened, then sagged, and I eased him down before he could make a sound. The second turned too late. A single step closed the distance between us. My hand moved without hesitation, the blade slicing clean across his throat. Warm blood coated my fingers as he collapsed, his eyes wide with shock. No noise. No witnesses. I lowered him beside the first and straightened slowly, my gaze already shifting forward. I did not look back. I never did. The Alpha's territory stretched ahead of me, vast and fortified. High stone walls loomed under the night sky, patrols moving in steady patterns, wolves carrying themselves with the careless confidence of those who believed they were untouchable. It suited him. Kael Draven ruled like a man who had never been made to bleed. Tonight, that illusion ended. I moved through the shadows, keeping low, keeping silent. Every step was deliberate, every breath controlled. Training had carved discipline into my bones, stripping hesitation away until nothing remained but purpose. Kill. Move. Disappear. It had been my life for years. Tonight, it would mean something. The main hall came into view, light spilling across the courtyard, carrying the sound of laughter and music. Voices overlapped in careless conversation, glasses clinking in celebration. A gathering. Perfect. People were careless when they felt safe. I slipped through a side entrance and merged into the edges of the room, my hood casting a shadow over my face. No one spared me a second glance. To them, I was invisible, another servant moving quietly through a space that did not belong to me. That arrogance would cost him everything. My gaze swept the room once. Then found him. Kael Draven stood at the center of the hall as if everything else existed around him. Tall, broad-shouldered, his posture relaxed in a way that was not careless but controlled. Every movement was deliberate. Every glance is measured. Power radiated from him in slow, heavy waves. Even from across the room, I could feel it pressing against my skin. Alpha. Not just any Alpha. A strong one. My fingers tightened slightly around the dagger. I wanted him strong. I wanted him to feel it when I ended him. I moved forward, weaving through the crowd, my movements smooth and unhurried. No one noticed. No one ever did. Ten steps. Eight. Five. Close enough to see the sharp angles of his face, the faint tension beneath his calm expression, the awareness in his eyes that told me he missed nothing. This was him. The man who had taken everything from me before I even knew how to fight back. Kael Draven. I stepped into his space. And my wolf went silent. Too silent for me to worry. The sudden stillness inside me felt wrong. My breath caught, my body going rigid for a fraction of a second before I forced myself to move. I raised the dagger. He turned. Our eyes met. And the world shattered. The force of it hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. My wolf surged forward violently, clawing against my control, drawn to something I refused to name. My heart stuttered, then raced, then lost rhythm entirely. No. No. Not him. Anyone but him. The realization came anyway. "Mate" my wolf finally spoke and with that, everything came to a still. My grip tightened painfully around the dagger, grounding myself. This did not matter. He did not matter. Revenge did. His gaze locked onto mine with sudden intensity. His body went still in a way that was anything but calm, something sharp and aware settling into his expression. He felt it too. Of course he did. My jaw tightened. Too bad. I moved. The dagger cut through the air, aimed straight for his throat. Gasps rippled through the room, but they were distant, meaningless. He caught my wrist. The impact sent a sharp shock through my arm, but I did not hesitate. I twisted, pivoting into him, driving my knee toward his ribs. He blocked it, fast enough to force me to adjust. We moved again, bodies colliding in a controlled clash of strength and precision. The room dissolved into chaos around us, voices rising, movement scattering outward, but none of it mattered. All I could feel was him. The heat of his skin where his hand wrapped around my wrist. The strength in his grip. The bond. It pulsed between us, sharp and insistent, pulling at something inside me I refused to acknowledge. I crushed it down. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice low and steady. "You do not remember?" I smiled, slow and cold. His brows pulled together slightly, confusion flickering across his face. That small reaction sent something dark and satisfied through me. I slipped free just long enough to drag my blade across his shoulder. The cut was clean and precise. Blood surfaced instantly, dark against his shirt. For a moment, the entire room went still. No one expected their Alpha to bleed. I stepped back, breathing steady, my gaze locked on his. "Now you will," I smirked and something shifted in his expression. Not anger or pain. Something far more dangerous. Interest. His focus sharpened, locking entirely onto me. That should have made this easier. It did not. He moved again, faster this time, more deliberate. No hesitation. No restraint. This was the man I had come to kill. We circled each other slowly, tension tightening between us. Wolves hovered at the edges of the room, uncertain, unwilling to interfere. They could feel it. Not just the fight. The bond. Disgust twisted in my chest. I lunged again, aiming higher, faster. He did not block. He stepped into me. The sudden closeness stole my balance for half a second. His hand closed around my wrist again, firm and unyielding. My blade hovered inches from his throat. Too close. Too dangerous. His other hand rose slowly, deliberately, brushing against my arm. My wolf surged violently. A sharp breath escaped me before I could stop it. He felt it. "Snow!! Focus!!!!" I almost screamed at my wolf. But it was already too late. "Mate," he said quietly.