Claimed By The Alpha Twin

The Bartender

Chapter 4: The Bartender

Maya

I stared down at the glass of whiskey in my hand, the amber liquid catching the dim bar lights and swirling lazily with every unsteady tilt of my wrist. The ice cubes clinked against the sides, a small, lonely sound in the quiet corner.

"So yeah," I muttered, the words coming out thick and slurred. "That's the story of my life."

A bitter laugh escaped me as I lifted the glass to my lips. The whiskey burned down my throat, spreading warmth that did nothing to touch the cold knot lodged in my chest.

"I found out the man I loved for fifteen years was sleeping with our maid," I continued, my fingers tightening around the glass until my knuckles whitened. "And not only did he cheat on me… he had the audacity to hit me. Because of her. He believed her over me."

I turned toward the bartender. He had stopped wiping the same glass, his hand frozen mid-motion as his eyes widened.

"Can you believe that?" My voice cracked on the last word.

He shook his head slowly, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "Damn. And I thought my life was awful." He let out a low whistle. "I can't even imagine how you must be feeling right now."

I stared at him for a beat, then let out another hollow chuckle that tasted like ash in my mouth. The bar smelled of spilled beer and old wood, the faint jazz music doing little to fill the emptiness inside me. My weak wolf curled up tighter, as if trying to hide from the pain.

"How could I have let him lay his hands on me?" My free hand rose unconsciously to my cheek, fingertips brushing the phantom sting that still lingered. "I should have slapped him. And her. Both of them. I should have hit them so hard instead of just standing there, tears streaming down my face like some weak, pathetic fool."

The bartender leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. "Why don't you tell the Alpha about all this?"

I laughed again—sharp, bitter, and edged with exhaustion. My shoulders slumped as I shook my head. "He's his son. And I don't want to tear their family apart. Alpha Ian loves me like his own. The moment he hears about this, he wouldn't just deal with Kate—he might destroy Caleb too. I can't do that to the man who gave me a home when I had nothing."

The bartender swallowed hard, his face paling slightly. He reached for the bottle and poured me another generous measure without a word.

"You can't force love," I whispered, staring into the swirling liquid as if it held answers. My throat tightened painfully. "Love isn't real if it's forced. Maybe he just wasn't destined for me."

I set the glass down harder than I intended. The clink echoed through the quiet bar. The room tilted gently as the alcohol worked its way through me, blurring the edges of the pain but not erasing it.

I didn't even remember the walk here. One moment I was storming out of the mansion, chest heaving with betrayal, the next I was sliding onto this stool and ordering the biggest bottle they had. Now most of it was gone, leaving only a heavy fog in my head.

I fumbled for my bag, fingers clumsy as I dug for my phone. My thumb hovered unsteadily over the screen.

"Tom..."

Before I could finish, the bartender gently took the phone from my hand, spoke clear directions into it, and handed it back with a sympathetic nod.

I laughed then—a wild, broken sound that didn't feel like mine. Then I dropped my head onto the cool bar top, the wood pressing against my forehead as exhaustion and humiliation washed over me.

This is so pathetic, I thought, the words echoing dully. Heartbroken. Drinking myself numb. Pouring my shattered life out to a stranger.

I used to watch scenes like this in movies and feel nothing but secondhand embarrassment. I'd roll my eyes and think, They should just pull themselves together. Now here I was, living it—cheeks flushed, eyes burning, the weight of betrayal sitting heavy in my stomach like lead.

Experience truly was the harshest teacher.

When Tom finally arrived, I was barely holding it together. I pushed myself up on shaky legs, the world swaying around me. My dress was wrinkled, my hair a mess, and my eyes felt swollen and raw. I had never drunk like this before. Never needed to.

Tom's steady hand caught my elbow as I wobbled. I pulled a large bill from my bag and pressed it into the bartender's hand with a weak, grateful smile. Then I let Tom guide me outside. He opened the car door, and I collapsed into the back seat, the leather cool against my skin.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, trying to breathe through the ache that refused to fade.

Why did it still hurt so much? I had convinced myself I was done caring. I had decided to move on. So why did my chest feel like it was being squeezed in a vice?

Was it the slap echoing in my memory? The image of them together? Or the crushing realization that neither Caleb nor Lucas—the boys who had once been my everything—had ever truly loved the real me?

Tom glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his expression soft with pity. "Are you okay, Miss?"

The question made my eyes sting again. I swallowed hard, staring out at the passing lights.

No. I wasn't okay.

Why did everyone I trusted end up hurting me? Why was I never enough?

The thought cut off as a small, quiet voice reminded me: At least Alpha Ian cares. He always has.

I wasn't complicated. I didn't crave jewels or grand gestures. I just wanted someone to see me—truly see me—and stay.

Alpha Ian did. He never needed explanations. For a while, I had thought Lucas might too. He had always been calm and steady beneath that cold mask. But he was a puzzle—hot one moment, distant the next. Impossible to figure out.

The car jolted to a stop. Tom opened my door.

"We've arrived, Miss."

The mansion rose in front of me, lights glowing softly against the dark sky. I stepped out carefully, heels clicking unsteadily on the stone path.

Tom moved to walk with me. "Miss Maya, excuse me, I—"

I turned and forced a bright smile, even as the world tilted. "Don't bother, Tom. You've done more than enough tonight. I can manage. Thank you."

I waved him off and pushed through the front door, the familiar scents of home hitting me—wood polish, faint pine, and the cedar that now turned my stomach.

I stumbled toward the staircase, gripping the railing as my head spun worse with every step. My vision blurred. Sleep pulled at me like a heavy blanket.

My feet staggered on the stairs, but I made it to the top. I reached a door, pushed it open without thinking, stepped inside, and closed it behind me. I collapsed onto the bed, sinking into the soft mattress with a sigh of relief.

I sat up briefly when running water sounded from the bathroom. "Did I forget to turn it off?" I mumbled, the words thick on my tongue.

Too tired to check, I lay back down. "Never mind. I don't care."

I kicked off my heels, shrugged out of my dress, and tossed it across the room. It landed somewhere with a soft thud. I lay there in my red lingerie, the cool air raising goosebumps on my skin. I pulled the duvet over me and closed my eyes.

Sleep. That was all I needed.

****

Cool water droplets landed on my cheeks, pulling me back.

I forced my eyes open and found myself staring into a pair of familiar hazel eyes—the prettiest ones I had ever known.

A man loomed over me, water dripping from his wet hair onto my face. His gaze studied me intensely. A towel hung low on his hips.

My foggy mind struggled to focus.

Those eyes… that face so close…

"Caleb?" I whispered, voice hoarse and uncertain.

He didn't answer. He simply stared, expression unreadable.

I reached up, my fingers brushing his damp, warm chest. He stayed perfectly still.

"Why are you here?" I mumbled, words slurring together. "Did you come to hurt me again?"

Silence.

I chuckled bitterly, letting my hand fall back. "You know… I used to think you were the only one who understood me. But I was wrong. About everything."

A long pause. Then his voice—low, rough, unfamiliar—broke the silence.

"Maya."

I opened my eyes again. But something was different. That voice. It wasn't Caleb's.

I stared at him, my foggy mind trying to piece it together.

The hazel eyes. The wet hair. The towel.

Wait…

Are those Lucas's eyes?

I blinked again, trying to focus. My mind was spinning, but the details were slowly coming into focus. The shape of his face. The silence. The scent.

It definitely wasn't Lucas.

It had to be Caleb.

But why was he in my room this late?