Fated To Two: She Belongs To The Alphas

Run, Amara, run—don't look back. The last voice she heard was that of her matriarch’s before the forest got caught up in flames. The fire ran through the entire village, consuming everything in its path. The heat from the flames cracked through the night, desolating everything she had ever known—her home, her family, and legacy—everything turning into ash right before her eyes. It looked like the flame came alive. Amara couldn't move for a split second, her body numb and unmoving as she watched everything burn to the ground. The smell of burning fur and blood filled her senses, screams of wolves in agony—and there was nothing she could do about it. She forced herself to move. She had to go. The smoke clogged her lungs as she navigated her way out. No looking back. Not even when she heard the cries of her pack members as they burned to ash, her heart shattering in her chest. Amara Hudson ran. Branches whipped her face, sharp roots tugged at her feet, but she didn't stop— didn't stop moving. Each step Amara took pulled her forth from the only place she had ever called home. The air carried the smell of flames behind her. The darkness she ran through welcomed her. She kept running, not knowing exactly where she was going—but one thing was clear: she had to get away from whatever was behind her. Amara heard the creature behind her. The growing sound it made terrified her, but she didn't dare to look back. She ran as fast as she could, but even then, it felt like she moved slow—and it was closing in. Amara grew weak as she had pushed herself past her limits. Her legs gave out right before dawn—so did her body. She collapsed somewhere between the scent of forest and damp earth, her breath coming in ragged bursts, her eyes barely able to stay open. There was blood on her hands and body—hers or someone else's, she wasn't sure. Her wolf stirred weakly within her, too wounded to shift. Just a little further, she told herself, struggling as she pushed her body past a stone with ancient symbols. A border mark—the one no wolf dared to cross. But she did. Amara crossed because she had no choice. And when she finally passed out, she saw the world slowly fading away. She felt peace as the silence took over her. Until groans snapped it apart. Two sets of footsteps. Two distinct scents. One like snow and steel. The other like embers and smoke. And then— "She's on our land." "No, she's on mine." "Back away from her, Derrick." "Funny, I was going to say the same to you, Lucian." They both stood in defensive forms, The silence thick, air filled with tension, Until they both inhaled—and froze. Amara's cracked lips parted, and her lashes fluttered. They were hers. And she was theirs. Amara's body gave out as her eyes closed. ♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️♾️ Amara's eyes opened slowly. She felt the softness of the bed beneath her. She tried to get up, but she could feel every inch of her body protesting against it. She looked around—she wasn't outside anymore. She was alive, but barely. She found herself inside a warm room with a structural ceiling above her, and the sound of the burning wood from the fireplace reminded her of her village and what had become of it now. But she couldn't think about that now. Her body needed to heal. Her wolf was silent, curled up inside of her, too weak to rise. Amara didn't know where she was, and she needed to get out of this place—but then the room door creaked open. A tall figure with long hair and striking blue eyes walked in, his presence commanded so much authority. He stood next to the bed, his shadow looming over her. "Who are you?" his voice rolled out, firm and absolute. Amara couldn't speak—her throat dry. She could see the intensity in his eyes, and fear ran through her. "My... name is Amara," her voice came out barely audible. "Well, Amara, you breached the borders—and no one has the right to do such a thing." Amara wanted to explain herself—she hadn't meant to cross borders, that she was running for her life—but her entire body trembled, her voice caught in her throat. “I—I didn't mean to," she whispered, her eyes not meeting his. “I was running… something was chasing me. My pack… they are all gone." Her heart ached as she said those few words. The room fell silent for a moment, heavy and suffocating. The man's expression shifted slightly, his shoulders tense, his eyes narrowed as if weighing her words. “You were being hunted?" his voice low but not losing that intense edge. Amara nodded weakly, her fingers curled around the blanket around her. His gaze stayed on her for a split second—he could see the innocence in her eyes. The man didn’t utter another word as he started heading to the door. “Wait… Who are you?” she summoned the courage to ask. He paused at the door. “Lucian,” he said simply. “Alpha of the Onyxfangs Pack.” Then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft thud, leaving Amara in stunned silence. Alpha... She had crossed into a rival territory. But somehow, being under his roof felt... safe. Once Lucian was out of the room, confusion spread across his face. She was being chased, but by what? He didn't see anything when he arrived at the border. He could sense their mate bond pulling him, but when he felt the mate bond, so did Derrick. But what does this mean? It was impossible for two werewolf Alphas to have one mate, but here she was—so innocent and vulnerable. Lucian knew Derrick never let him take her out of the kindness of his heart—it was a calculated move, and Lucian was already bracing himself for the storm that followed. Lucian ran a hand through his thick dark hair, his thoughts a tangled mess. If Derrick had felt the mate bond too, then this was more than just a complicated situation. Derrick never shared anything, especially not something as sacred as the mate bond.