THE ALPHA'S SAVAGE MATE

Chapter 4: The Night Before the Ceremony

Brielle's POV

The packhouse was alive with noise, buzzing with the energy of last-minute preparations for the big event tomorrow. Laughter spilled down the hallways, the kind that felt sharp and cruel when you knew it wasn’t meant for you. The clinking of glasses and the rustling of decorations being arranged hit my ears noisy: irrigating,endless, and impossible to ignore.

I couldn’t breathe.

The walls seemed too close, the air too heavy, pressing down on my chest with every sound, every movement. My heart pounded against my ribs as if trying to escape, and for a moment, I thought I might scream if I had to hear another burst of laughter. The air inside the packhouse wasn’t air at all; it was suffocating, cloying, like being trapped beneath a weight I could never lift.

I slipped out the back door without a sound, closing it softly behind me. No one would notice. No one ever noticed.

The night air wrapped around me, cool and biting, stealing the heat from my skin. I exhaled shakily, and for the first time all day, my lungs expanded fully. The tightness in my chest loosened, replaced by the crisp sharpness of the outdoors. The woods loomed ahead, dark and inviting, their shadows stretching long under the pale light of the moon. They were silent in a way the packhouse could never be. Peaceful.

I didn’t hesitate. My feet carried me forward, past the edge of the pack’s land and into the quiet embrace of the trees. The farther I walked, the more my pulse slowed, the drumming in my ears fading into the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of the river.

I didn’t stop until I reached my favorite spot: a small clearing by the riverbank, hidden away where no one ever came. It was mine,just mine,and tonight, I needed it more than ever.

The sound of the river rushing over smooth stones filled the air, drowning out the chaos I’d left behind. I crouched down by the water’s edge, letting the cool mist kiss my skin. The dampness clung to my face, brushing my cheeks and cooling the heat that had built up in me back at the packhouse. For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the dark ripples, the reflection of the moon fractured and shifting with the movement of the current.

It was the same moon my mother used to tell me stories about when I was little.

I couldn’t have been more than six or seven, sitting cross-legged in the grass with my mother beside me. Her hair was long and wild, the color of burnt honey, and it caught the moonlight like it had been spun from silver. She’d always smelled like spruce and rose, a scent that made me feel safe in a way nothing else ever could.

“Do you know why the moon is so important to us, Brielle?” she’d asked, her voice soft and melodic, like the songs she used to hum when she thought no one was listening.

I’d shaken my head, staring up at her with wide eyes. The world felt so big back then, and my mother was the anchor that kept me steady in it.

“It’s because the moon never gives up,” she said, pointing at the sky. “Even when it’s covered in shadow, it always finds a way to shine again. And that’s what you are, my little moonbeam. No matter how dark things get, you’ll always find your light.”

Her words had made me feel invincible, like I could do anything, be anything. They filled me with a warmth I didn’t have words for, a quiet sense of power that hummed in my chest.

I looked up at her, beaming. “Do you think I’ll be strong like you one day?”

She’d smiled, her green eyes sparkling like the forest after rain. “You’re already stronger than you know, Brielle. One day, you’ll see it too.”

The memory twisted in my chest, warm and sharp all at once. My mother had believed in me, even when no one else did. She’d always told me I was meant for something more, that I had a strength inside me that would carry me through anything.

But she wasn’t here anymore. She hadn’t been for years.

She died when I was ten, and everything good in my life had gone with her.

The ache of her absence was something I carried with me every day, a quiet heaviness that never truly went away. It was like a scar,hidden beneath the surface, invisible to everyone else, but there all the same.

The sound of a distant owl pulled me back to the present. I closed my eyes, letting the cool night air wash over me, washing away the memory like the river washed over the stones. If my mother could see me now, would she still think I was strong? Or would she feel the same disappointment the rest of the pack did?

The truth was, I didn’t feel strong. I felt empty. Like a shadow of a person.

Tomorrow, Kylie and Liam would stand in front of the pack, all smiles and perfect chemistry, and everyone would cheer for them. They’d praise Kylie for being flawless, for being the perfect Luna. They’d praise Liam for choosing a mate “worthy” of him.

And me? I’d be the forgotten girl in the background, the one who wasn’t enough.

My throat tightened as the weight of it all pressed down on me. I tried to swallow the lump, but it refused to budge. and the memories began flooding in.

I was thirteen, sitting by the same riverbank with my feet dipped into the icy water. Back then, this had been my favorite place to daydream.

One day, I’d thought, I’ll have a mate. Someone who sees me. Someone who loves me for who I am, not who they want me to be.

I’d imagined the ceremony in vivid detail: my mate stepping forward, smiling at me like I was the only person in the world. The pack gathered around us, their faces full of approval and respect. For the first time in my life, I’d belong.

I’d spent hours dreaming about that day, picturing every little detail. The dress I’d wear, the flowers in my hair, the look of pride on my mate’s face.

It had kept me going through the worst of Sylvia’s coldness, through Kylie’s taunts and my father’s indifference. No matter how bad things got, I’d always had that dream to hold onto.

And now?

Now, that dream was ashes.

A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. I wiped it away quickly, scowling at myself.

Crying wasn’t going to fix anything. It wasn’t going to change the fact that I wasn’t enough.

I dug my nails into my palms, welcoming the sting. At least it was a distraction from the ache in my chest, the hollow space where the mate bond used to be.

I wasn’t a kid anymore. I couldn’t afford to cling to stupid dreams that would never come true.

I stared down at the water, my reflection distorted by the ripples. The girl looking back at me didn’t look like a fighter. She looked like someone who’d already lost.

The pack’s howls echoed faintly in the distance, a reminder of everything I wasn’t.

I hated it here. Hated the packhouse. Hated the pack. Hated the way they looked at me, like I was some kind of parasite clinging to the edges of their world.

I thought of Kylie’s smirk, Sylvia’s sharp words, Liam’s cold indifference. My stomach twisted, and my hands curled into fists.

No more.

I didn’t know where I’d go or what I’d do, but one thing was clear: I couldn’t stay here.

Staying meant more humiliation, more pain, more nights spent wondering why I wasn’t good enough.

Staying meant slowly dying under the weight of their expectations, their sneers, their pity.

And I was done.

I stood, the cool night air brushing against my skin as I squared my shoulders. My bag was already packed, hidden under my bed where no one would think to look.

I’d leave tomorrow night, after the ceremony. By then, everyone would be too drunk or distracted to notice.

The world outside was dangerous, I knew that. Rogues, hunters, other packs that wouldn’t take kindly to a lone wolf,especially one who couldn’t shift.

But what choice did I have?

Staying felt like a slow death. Leaving might be a risk, but it was the only way to survive.

I took a deep breath, staring up at the moon.

“You’re stronger than you know,” my mother had said.

I hoped she was right.

Because tomorrow, I’d take the first step toward something better.

Or I’d die trying.