My Two Alpha Mates

Chapter 2

"This is certifiably insane," Cassian’s voice was a low growl that vibrated through the cramped cargo bay of the stealth-shuttle. He was pacing, his black utility fatigues a stark, menacing contrast to the tattered silver lace of my ceremonial gown. "You two," he snapped, jabbing a finger between me and Zayd, "this is going to detonate a political firestorm. A storm that I am going to have to contain."

Zayd, who was strapped into the co-pilot's console, didn't even turn around. The green-black light of the navigation screen lit his impassive face. "Better a firestorm than a funeral, Lieutenant."

"And you," Cassian rounded on me, his eyes dark with a protective fury I knew all too well. "Lyra, The Aegis Citadel? Have you lost your mind? It's not a sanctuary. It’s a grinder."

"It's the only place Kaelen and his father can't reach," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. I was huddled on a cargo net, trying to stop shaking. "It's the one place that operates outside their jurisdiction."

"It operates outside everyone's jurisdiction! That's the point!" He scrubbed a hand over his face, a gesture so like our father's it made my chest ache. "This is... this is a catastrophe."

"It's an adventure," Zayd's voice cut in, and I could hear the smirk in it. "Come on, Cassian. You’re the best at navigating impossible odds. Think of this as the ultimate strategic challenge."

Three hours later, we were deep in the 'Red Zone,' the un-mapped, signal-jammed mountain ranges that served as the Citadel's buffer zone. The shuttle's engines were on silent-run, the only sound the hum of the air recyclers.

It had been shockingly easy to get me out of the Aethelburg Spire. Once Zayd had activated a silent alarm, the entire 'diplomatic wing' had been routed to emergency safe rooms as a 'precaution,' giving us the perfect cover to slip into the military hangar. He’d given me a set of his own fatigues, and after I’d rolled the sleeves and pant legs a dozen times and used the silver sash from my gown to belt the waist, they… almost fit.

"Alright," Cassian sighed, finally slumping onto a crate opposite me. He'd been on his secure comlink for the last hour. "The Patriarch is... informed."

"He is?" I asked, my eyes wide. "What did he say? Is he furious?"

"I mean," Cassian said, flicking his eyes at me, "I didn't exactly give him details. I didn't say 'hi, Father, Lyra's fleeing her politically vital Binding to go join a black-ops military cult.' I told him 'Protocol Black-Zero. Asset compromised. Moving asset to secure-alpha-site.' He's... spinning."

"He trusts us," Zayd murmured from the cockpit.

"He trusts you to be his unshakeable shield," Cassian retorted. "He trusts me to be his heir. And he trusts Lyra to be the perfect, diplomatic daughter! He thinks she’s being 'medically evacuated' to a neutral enclave. He’s already leaking a story to the press about a 'sudden viral-protocol quarantine.' He's covering for us, but if Magnus Drogan finds out where we've gone..."

"He won't," Zayd said, his tone final.

We were always a triad, the three of us. I never really understood that being a 'girl' made me less until I was about ten. That's when I was forced to begin 'Lineage Studies and Diplomatic Decorum' while Cassian and Zayd—who had been assigned as my brother's protector even as a boy—got to go to the tactical simulation domes. I was devastated. I didn't want to learn how to host a state dinner; I wanted to learn the ambush-algorithms they were practicing.

But, well. I learned my duty. I learned that being a Valerius Princess meant I was a different kind of weapon. I learned to be quiet, observant, and charming. I learned to analyze trade agreements for hidden clauses and to use a disarming smile to glean information. It came naturally.

Cassian and Zayd, however, knew my frustration. They secretly gave me access to their training modules. They taught me everything they learned—data-splicing, small-unit tactics, and close-quarters-combat. They said a Valerius mind was a weapon, and it needed to know how to defend its 'housing.'

I’m not built for brawling. I’m small, all sharp angles and pale hair, my mother’s ghost. But strategy? Seeing the pattern in the chaos? That’s what I do.

And though I thought I was ready for my duty, to sacrifice myself on the altar of diplomacy to save Veridia... I don't think my heart has ever beaten as fast and as happily as it is right now, in this shuttle, fleeing that life. I'm so terrified I can barely breathe. And I'm so alive.

Of course, Cassian was there to ground me.

"Okay," he sighed, tossing his comlink into his pack. "Zayd. Be realistic. What the hell are we going to do with Lyra when we get to the Citadel?"

"What do you mean?" Zayd asked, finally swiveling in his chair to face us. "We just... take her with us."

"What?" Cassian’s voice was dangerously quiet. "You mean into the Citadel? As a recruit?"

"Sure," Zayd said with a shrug. "You promised the Patriarch we'd keep her safe, right? What's safer than having her by our side, 24/7, inside the most secure fortress on the continent?"

I gaped at him. The audacity of it. I'd heard of the Aegis Citadel my whole life. It was a myth. A ghost story. They only accepted 'Alpha-tier' candidates. And while Cassian and Zayd were obvious recruits, I'd only ever dreamed of the other tracks. The espionage and counter-intelligence programs. The psycho-linguistics warfare division. There was even a rumor they were bio-engineering soldiers who could... well, the rumors got wild.

No one really knows what happens in there. It’s all classified. But the graduates... gods, the graduates. When they came to consult with my father, they moved with a lethal, contained confidence. Like they knew the secrets of the universe and could kill you with them.

And damn, did I envy that.

Still, it was a fantasy. "They'll never let me in," I whispered.

"I am not letting her out of our sight," Cassian grumbled, his protective instincts warring with his logic. He shifted, studying me, his eyes full of doubt.

I sighed, my brief flare of hope dying. "He's right, Zayd. It's impossible."

"It's not that I don't want you there, Lyra," Cassian sighed, seeing my face fall. "It's just... it's not a safe place for... for you. It's a bio-sealed pressure cooker. Over a hundred Alpha-screened males in their prime, juiced on stimulants and testosterone, with no outside contact for a year. You'll be... Lyra, you'll be eaten alive. You know Ronan Varrus is in our intake cohort, right?"

"The 'Void Bear' Varrus?" My head snapped up, my eyes going wide. Varrus was a legend. A renegade scion of the Varrus mining clan, he'd given up his inheritance to become the undefeated champion of the zero-g fighting leagues. His career was notoriously bloody and wildly popular. He'd "retired" to join the Citadel, a move that stunned the media.

And yes, I'd seen the data-feeds. He was... physically impressive. In a terrifying, brutal way. The lines of his face...

Well. His jawline was beside the point.

"Isn't the simplest plan the best one?" Zayd interrupted, pulling me from my thoughts. "Lyra just... comes with us."

"You are being ridiculous," Cassian seethed, losing his temper. "What, we're just going to waltz into the candidate barracks, filled with a bunch of apex predators like Varrus, and say 'Oh, hey guys, we brought my little sister! She'll be in the bunk next to you! Don't touch her, hands off'?"

"No," Zayd said, his eyes bright and eager. He was grinning. "We don't waltz in with your sister."

He unzipped his pack and pulled out a black, standard-issue fatigue cap. He plopped it on my head, pulling it low.

"We waltz in with your new squad-mate."

"What!?" Cassian looked appalled.

"It'll work!" Zayd said, his grin widening. He reached over and began tucking my long, pale-gold hair up under the cap, his fingers quick and efficient. I felt a hysterical laugh bubble in my chest, realizing what he was planning.

"Cassian," Zayd said, turning to my brother with a theatrical flourish. "Meet 'Lyr.' Lyr Valerius. Our quiet, brooding bunkmate."

Cassian's mouth dropped open. I couldn't help it; I laughed. Then I quickly rearranged my face, trying to look tough, pulling my shoulders back and dropping my chin in my best imitation of Zayd.

"Oh, by the stars," Cassian groaned, collapsing back onto the crate and putting his head in his hands. "No. Absolutely not. This will never work. The scanners—"

"The scanners look for Alpha-tier genes, Cassian. For potential," Zayd cut him off. "Which she has. Father already registered her."

"He what?" Cassian and I said at the same time.

"A long time ago. A 'just in case' contingency. He registered two male heirs for this intake: Cassian Valerius... and Lyr Valerius."

"But... but my face! My hair!" I protested, even as my heart hammered with wild hope.

Zayd moved back to his pack and pulled out a vibra-blade and a flat, grey, elasticated compression vest.

"The hair, we cut," he said, tossing the blade to me. I caught it. "The rest," he tossed me the vest, "we bind. They're not looking for a princess, Lyra. They're expecting a recruit. So, we give them one."

"No," Cassian muttered, his voice muffled by his hands. "You're Lyra. You're a diplomat. You do... data analysis and... and host state dinners!"

"Not anymore," I said, my voice low and fierce. I looked at the humming blade in my hand, then at Zayd, who nodded, his expression dead serious. I turned to my brother. "Now, I'm Lyr. And I'm a recruit."