Just her Luck
1740 Words
Wrenna POV
She followed the trail of his scent—which was much easier now that they were mates—hurrying down the stairs.
She spotted him—near the dining hall, in deep conversation with another Alpha. She was about to step down the last step and call his name, when—
“Alphas, Lunas and pups, please report to the dining hall for our opening dinner in thirty minutes. Formal wear required.” A voice rang through the speakers. Wrenna only just noticed. She blinked, scanning the ceiling. Speakers. Cameras.
They were everywhere.
Her wolf snarled low inside her mind. We’re being watched.
You’re being paranoid. Wrenna sighed, rolling her eyes. But when she turned back to where Brad had been standing—he was gone.
Wrenna looked around the hallway, but he was nowhere to be seen. Oh well, it was probably for the best. She would have to do it somewhere without cameras, or the Council would be on to her—would know her and Damian had lied about being marked—and then there would be hell to pay.
Maybe they would even question her Alpha role inside the Whispering Pines pack.
Wrenna turned, running back up the stairs. She only had thirty—she looked down at her watch—twenty-seven minutes to get ready. s**t… what was she going to wear? When she hopped up the stairs, reaching her floor, she turned the corner and crashed into a hard chest.
Smoke and cedar numbed her senses.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Can’t help but throw yourself at me, huh?” Brad’s grin was smug, but his stormy eyes were wild—like he was barely holding something back.
“Oh, please. Get over yourself,” Wrenna snapped, though her pulse betrayed her, hammering as sparks raced over her skin where they touched. She shoved against his chest, needing distance, air.
But before she could escape, his fingers closed around her bare arm. Heat flared through her veins—so intense she gasped. His jaw tightened. He dropped her like she’d scorched him.
“I just—” His voice cracked, rougher now. “We need to talk.”
Her lips parted, but before the words could come, a voice chimed behind him.
“Brad, we need to get—oh.” Sienna’s smile soured into a sneer. “What’s she doing here?”
Wrenna plastered on her sweetest fake smile. “We share a floor. Believe me, I’m just as horrified.”
Then she swept past them, letting the door click shut behind her.
Her back pressed to the wood, her wolf snarled and whined in the same breath.
Mate.
Stop it, okay? she snapped inwardly. It’s almost over. We just need to reject him and—
“Wren? Everything okay?” Damian’s voice grounded her, low and familiar.
She startled, turning. He was holding Brenley, who looked unfairly adorable in his tiny tuxedo—matching Damian’s own.
“Yes!” she answered too quickly, her voice too bright.
Damian frowned, adjusting Brenley on his hip as he crossed to her. “You’re a little pale.” He pressed the back of his hand gently to her forehead. His warmth was steady, unshakable—everything Brad wasn’t.
“It’s nothing. I just—I don’t have much time to change.” She forced a laugh. “You know how I overthink outfits.”
He studied her a moment longer, his gaze searching, but then his lips quirked.
“Why don’t you wear that hot pink evening dress with the high slit?”
Wrenna blinked. “You noticed that one?”
“Hard not to,” Damian said simply, his eyes soft but certain. “You look like you own the room when you wear it. Let the Council see that Wrenna tonight—the one who doesn’t shrink for anyone.”
Her throat tightened. He had no idea how close those words cut, how badly she needed to hear them. For a second, she almost believed she could drown out the sparks still racing along her skin from Brad’s touch.
“Okay, I’ll be out in a bit,” she smiled, racing to her room to get ready.
Damian whistled low when Wrenna stepped into the hallway. Her hair was swept into a sleek beehive, her lips painted the same bold shade as her dress. The gown itself was conservative from the waist up, but floor-length with a daring thigh-high slit that revealed long lines of skin with every step.
“You look—” Damian broke off, breathless, his gaze sweeping over her.
“Thank you. You both look dashing,” she smiled, tapping Brenley’s nose and earning a giggle.
“Shall we?” Damian offered his arm, and she took it. Together they turned the corner just as the elevator doors began to close.
“Hold the door!” Damian called. A strong hand shot out, halting the motion. The doors slid back to reveal Brad and Sienna.
Perfect. Just perfect. Wrenna scoffed inwardly.
Brad’s eyes flicked in surprise—then locked on her. His gaze swept slowly down, then back up, deliberate, possessive. Her skin tingled in its wake as if he’d touched her bare. And the worst part? He looked infuriatingly good. His dark hair slicked back, his stormy blue eyes even brighter against the sharp cut of his three-piece suit.
Damian’s brows flicked, but instead of bristling, he just gave a small shrug as if to say whatever. “Guess we’re all headed the same way.” His hand stayed steady on Wrenna’s back, guiding her inside the elevator like nothing was wrong.
Sienna, on the other hand, was all venom. She slid closer to Brad, her manicured hand curling possessively around his bicep. Her eyes flicked over Wrenna from head to toe, then rolled as though the very sight of her in pink was offensive.
Wrenna bit down on the inside of her cheek. She should’ve been relieved by Damian’s calm—it showed trust, loyalty, steadiness. But Brad’s gaze still clung to her like fire, and it didn’t matter how close Sienna plastered herself to his side. He didn’t look away.
When she turned—eyes on the closing door, she could feel Brad’s unabashed gaze dropping to the curve of her ass. Heat crawled up her spine. This was terrible! And why did the elevator take so long?
“Ma-ma,” Brenley suddenly spoke, snapping the tension in the small room. He was holding out his little arms for her.
“Guess I’m not good enough anymore,” Damian chuckled, handing him over. Wrenna smiled—forgetting Brad was even behind her.
“Sweet little boy, are you going to behave tonight?” she asked, giggling as he shook his head. Sienna scoffed behind her, but Wrenna ignored it.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened up. They quickly got out, all heading towards the grand hall. When they approached, there were two people standing at the entrance, one with a clipboard, the other with name tags.
“Alpha Wrenna Dravenwood,” she announced, watching as one crossed it off while the other handed her the tag.
Laughter rang inside the hall, as they stepped inside, all tagged, a waiter offering them a glass of champagne.
Wrenna immediately snagged one—she was going to need it.
After some talking—she’d found her old friend, and Siren cheerleader, Beth, in the crowd—they were escorted to their seats.
To her relief, Brad and Sienna had been placed at a table in the far corner, their group already buzzing with conversation. Wrenna let herself exhale, her shoulders loosening. The food was rich, the wine flowed freely, and for a while she allowed herself to enjoy it—Beth’s laughter, Damian’s steady presence at her side, Brenley being swept off to the “pup room” with the other toddlers for games and sweets.
Almost… normal.
By the time dessert was served, the air had mellowed. Conversation turned softer, easier, the tension of arrivals fading. Wrenna was halfway convinced maybe the Council would actually let them be.
That illusion shattered the moment the Councilwoman rose. She was severe, black-clad, her voice slicing clean through the hall.
“Alphas. Lunas. Heirs.” Her gaze swept across the room, sharp and assessing. “This gathering marks a turning point. You are the new generation—those who will carry our world forward. Tonight, the full Regional Council is present. After tonight, we will withdraw. Your success—or failure—will be your own.”
A murmur rippled across the tables. Relief, suspicion, unease.
“If you’ll all turn your name cards,” she continued, “you will notice they are marked with a color. Red. Blue. Yellow. Green.”
Wrenna flipped hers over. Red. She glanced at Damian’s—blue. s**t.
“For the remainder of this evening, you will separate by color. Consider this… an exercise. A trial run. Prove that you can set aside rivalry and work together. Tomorrow, you will be given your itineraries. Each day, you will face a new challenge. Unity will be tested.”
The groan slipped out before Wrenna could stop it. Damian just chuckled under his breath, leaning close. “Guess I’ll see you later,” he murmured, squeezing her hand in apology. His steady smile was maddeningly calm.
But when the groups began to shift, Wrenna’s stomach dropped further. Red. She spotted the others already gathering—and right in the middle of them, stormy eyes cutting across the crowd, was Brad.
Of course.
They were herded into circles—pushed to one side or the other. A bowl was passed around, slips of paper folded inside.
“This bowl contains the names of everyone on that side,” the Councilmember explained with a too-bright smile. “Now, each of you on this side will pick. Your partner is the name you draw.”
By the time the bowl reached her, there were only two names left. Wrenna slid her fingers in. The bowl continued to pass while she opened hers.
Her chest clenched.
Bradley Blackbriar.
She looked up at the same moment he did. Their gazes locked across the circle, the air snapping tight between them.
Out of everyone here—it had to be him.
Just her luck.
- Writer
