Mine
1230 Words
Brax POV
“Alpha, it’s time to go,” Jackson, his Beta, said as he stepped into the office.
Brax sighed. He was not in the mood for this damn meeting. But the rogue attacks had been growing worse—more frequent, more coordinated. Like someone was pulling strings behind the scenes.
“Just give me a second,” Brax muttered, rising from his desk.
He turned left down the hall, past the patrol board and the training wing, and headed straight for the daycare tucked inside the packhouse. It had been Amber’s idea—something she’d never gotten to see through.
His chest pinched at the thought of her. Even now, years later, grief still landed like a fist to the ribs.
He knocked lightly and pushed the door open.
“Alpha,” the omega nannies greeted with warm smiles. “Wren is doing great today. She hasn’t bitten a single child.”
Brax cracked a rare grin. “That’s progress.”
He spotted her immediately—his daughter, his fireball. Wrenna sat in the corner, surrounded by a cluster of pups, golden curls tied up in crooked little buns. Just as he reached for her, she lifted a doll and—whack—brought it down squarely on another child’s head.
Brax groaned.
He was across the room in seconds, scooping her up as the stunned pup let out a tiny wail and one of the nannies rushed in to soothe them.
“Wren,” he said sternly. “What did we say about using dolls as weapons?”
“They weren’t sharing!” she declared with all the righteous fury of a three-year-old.
Brax ran a hand down his face, trying not to laugh.
Goddess help him.
He kissed her messy curls and whispered, “We’ll talk about it later. Daddy has to go be boring now.”
Wren huffed dramatically, grabbing at his lapel. “Don’t let the stinky Alphas boss you around!”
“I won’t,” he said with a smirk. “Promise.”
As the SUV rumbled toward the Winding River pack's gates, Brax’s mood only soured.
“I swear to the Goddess,” he muttered, “if I run into that spoiled Alpha brat again—”
“Veronica Hale?” Jackson asked from the passenger seat, though the smirk on his face said he already knew.
Brax growled low in his throat. “Met her once. That was more than enough. All diamonds and attitude. Thinks the world owes her something.”
“Let’s not forget her mother,” Ezra added from the back, his tone dry. “Isadora practically wrote the handbook on manipulation. I heard she tried to seduce three different Alphas at the last summit.”
“While her husband was out fighting border wars,” Brax said, jaw ticking.
Everyone knew it. No one said it.
Brax glanced out the window as the trees gave way to neatly paved roads and manicured hedges. Everything about Winding River looked perfect. Pristine.
Fake.
“I don’t like this place,” he muttered.
“Gee,” Jackson deadpanned, “you hide it so well.”
The SUV rolled to a slow stop in front of the Winding River packhouse. Brax stepped out, adjusting his cuffs, gaze sweeping the immaculate grounds.
Too polished. Too clean. It made his skin itch.
A young warrior approached and bowed slightly. “Alpha Dravenwood. We’re honored.”
Brax grunted in response. “Where’s Robert?”
“He’s inside with the other Alphas. They’re just waiting on his daughter.”
Brax’s jaw clenched. Of course they are.
He climbed the steps, Jackson and Ezra flanking him. The packhouse was even worse inside—crystal chandeliers, velvet drapes, the faint scent of roses covering something faker underneath. He was halfway through greeting the other Alphas when it happened.
A sudden hush fell over the room. The air shifted. And Brax felt it.
The snap.
The tether.
Mate.
He froze. His heart didn’t race—it punched. A scent hit him—warm honey and something darker. His eyes scanned the entrance… and there she was.
Veronica Hale.
Waltzing in like she was on a runway, hips swaying, chin high, lips painted like blood.
The bond slammed into him like a freight train—and his wolf stirred, interested. Hungry.
Brax? Not so much.
His expression darkened. “You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for his Beta to hear.
Jackson blinked. “Is that…?”
Brax nodded once. “Freakin’ perfect.”
She hadn’t seen him yet.
But when she did? Her eyes widened, lips parting slightly in a pleased smile.
No. Absolutely not.
He turned sharply and stalked toward the inner circle of Alphas before she could reach him. Let her chase him if she wanted.
He’d dealt with Alpha's daughters before.
And this one?
This one was his mate.
The Moon Goddess clearly had a twisted sense of humor.
She followed him around all night, trying to get to him, while Brax avoided her at every turn. He didn’t want to get close to her or give the bond a chance to grow. It was not happening.
“She’s been watching you all night,” Jackson said, sliding up next to him.
“Don’t care,” Brax drawled.
“Are you going to reject her?” Ezra, his Delta, asked.
“No, or Bash will be on my case forever,” Brax grumbled. His gamma, Sabastian, had been as crushed as he was by the death of Amber, but had made him promise not to reject any fated mate that crossed his path. Brax was now regretting that decision.
“Are you going to tell the others she’s yours?” Jackson asked, scanning the room. Brax had noticed other Alphas checking her out too. It had him clenching his fists, breathing slowly through his nose to avoid making a scene.
“She’s not,” and he meant it. He was not interested in claiming a spoiled Luna that was only twenty-five. He’d be better off taking one of the she wolves he occasionally slept with in the pack as his Luna. At least they were seasoned warriors, capable of protecting themselves and the pack.
But then it happened.
Alpha Whateverhisnamewas leaned in close to her, saying something with that smug, cocky grin all young Alphas wore when they thought they stood a chance.
Veronica purred in response, her fingers gliding up his arm—slow and sweet. But her eyes?
They were locked on Brax. Not flirtatious. Not innocent. Challenging.
His fists clenched. His wolf surged.
And before he could stop himself—
“Mine.”
The word thundered across the ballroom. Every Alpha turned. Silence dropped like a blade.
Veronica’s smirk curved like a crescent moon. She had baited him. And like the i***t he was, he took it.
Brax didn’t say another word. He just turned on his heel and stalked off toward the balcony, rage twisting in his gut.
He'd just claimed her. In front of a room full of Alphas.
And worse—some of them had looked at her the way wolves look at prey.
He’d put a target on her back.
And he didn’t even want her.
“f*****g fantastic,” he muttered, slamming his palm against the railing.
- Writer
