Claimed By The Alpha Twins

Close Doors

SARA:

The heavy, rhythmic beep of the cardiac monitor tore through the tense silence of the corridor, echoing off the stone walls like a countdown.

We burst through the double doors of Alpha Jonathan’s private quarters, Zayne leading with his hand hovering over his holster, Kyle a breath behind him, and me caught in their wake. My heart hammered against my ribs so violently I could feel it in my throat. I braced myself for the silence of death, for the stillness of a fallen king.

Instead, the room was a blur of frantic white coats.

Two pack doctors hovered over the grand oak bed, their hands moving with practiced urgency while a nurse adjusted an IV line. On the bed, Alpha Jonathan lay prostrated, his face pale and grey against the heavy velvet pillows. He wasn't dead, but he looked like a statue carved from chalk.

"Clear the room! His blood pressure is spiking!" one of the doctors barked, not even looking back as the monitor's alarm changed pitch, slowing into a harsh, steady rhythm.

"Is he alive?" Zayne’s voice cut through the noise, low, cold, and commanding. The air in the room instantly thickened with his pressure, forcing the younger doctor to falter for a split second.

"He... he is stabilized for now, Lord Zayne," the lead doctor stammered, wiping sweat from his forehead. "A hypertensive crisis brought on by physical stress. His heart couldn't take the sudden shock. But he is extremely weak. He cannot be disturbed."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, but the relief lasted only a heartbeat.

"Convenient timing," a quiet, raspy voice sneered from the shadowed corner of the room.

Elder Vane stepped into the ambient light, his dark robes pooling around his feet like oil. His sharp, pale eyes swept over the three of us, lingering on me with an open disgust that made my skin crawl.

"The pack bleeds at the borders, our Alpha King lies on his deathbed, and the great co-heirs return... with a stray," Vane said, his voice dripping with venomous polite restraint. "How comforting for the council to know our future rests in such distracted hands."

"Watch your tongue, Vane," Kyle growled, stepping shoulder-to-shoulder with Zayne. The subtle flare of sparks between the twins sent a tremor down my spine, the split mate bond pulling at my pulse, demanding I step between them and shield them, even though I was the helpless outsider here.

"I am merely stating facts, young Alpha," Vane replied smoothly, crossing his arms behind his back. "Jonathan cannot rule. The pack needs a demonstration of strength, not a divided house. Since your father's mind is shrouded, the council requires proof that you two can actually secure our borders before we even think about discussing a succession."

Zayne turned his body slightly, placing himself strategically between Vane and me. "What are you proposing, Elder?"

"A minor breach in Sector Four," Vane said, a dark glint flashing in his eyes. "Human task force scouts equipped with silver-tipped rounds were spotted near the outer ridge an hour ago. Take your squad. Eliminate the threat. Prove to the pack that your attention isn't entirely consumed by... personal interests."

He shot one last contemptuous glance in my direction before sweeping past us and out into the hall.

"He's setting a trap," Kyle muttered the second the door clicked shut, his jaw clenched tight.

"I know," Zayne said quietly, his blue eyes turning to me. The raw intensity in his gaze made my chest tighten. "We have to deal with this before the council uses it to strip our authority. But first..." He signaled to a pair of guards standing outside in the hall. "Escort Sara to her family’s quarters. Keep four guards on the perimeter at all times."

My stomach dropped into a cold, empty pit. My family.

The walk through the lower residential wing of the estate was a blur. Every step felt heavier than the last, my boots sinking into the thick carpet as memories I had spent three years trying to bury resurfaced with vicious force.

When the guard opened the heavy wooden door to the suite, I expected a scene. I expected my mother to sob, or my brother to yell, or at least for someone to demand where I had been for three long years while I played barista in the city.

Instead, I stepped into a room weighed down by a suffocating, unbearable silence.

The suite was warm, lit by the amber glow of a hearth, but the air felt frozen. My mother stood near the kitchen counter, a teacup suspended halfway to her lips. When her eyes met mine, her hand trembled so hard the porcelain rattled against the saucer. Relief flashed across her face, followed instantly by a shadow of deep, aching pain. She took a step toward me, but stopped, glancing nervously toward the study door.

Then, he stepped out.

My father looked older. The three years I had been gone had carved deep, unforgiving lines into his face and silvered the hair at his temples. He held a leather-bound logbook in his hands, his posture rigid.

"Father..." The word felt strange on my tongue, scratchy and dry.

He stopped in his tracks. For a second, just a fraction of a second, his eyes softened with the fierce, protective warmth I remembered from my childhood, the father who used to carry me on his shoulders and tell me my hybrid blood made me special, not broken.

Then, his gaze went entirely cold.

He didn't yell. He didn't curse. He simply looked straight through me, as if I were a ghost haunting his living room, and turned his back to walk toward his desk.

"Father, please," I said, my voice cracking as I stepped further into the room, past my mother, who quietly turned her face away to hide her tears. "Look at me. Say something."

He paused at the edge of the desk, his back still turned to me. When he finally spoke, his voice wasn't filled with anger, it was filled with a quiet, hollow grief that cut far deeper than any blade ever could.

"Why are you here, Sara?" he asked, not turning around.

"The twins... they brought me back. I didn't have a choice."

"You didn't have a choice now," he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with three years of unspoken agony. "But three years ago, you did."

"I ran because I was afraid!" I pleaded, my chest aching so badly I could barely breathe. "The rogue raid... the chaos... I thought.. "

"You thought only of yourself," he said softly, finally turning to face me. The raw heartbreak in his eyes hit me like a physical blow. "When the rogues breached our line, when the pack was bleeding, when this family was fighting for its very survival... we looked for you. Your mother cried herself to sleep for months thinking your body was buried in a ditch somewhere."

"I was trying to stay alive."

"We loved you, Sara," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly before he forced it back into a hard, unyielding tone. "I cherished you. I spent twenty years protecting you from everyone who looked down on your hybrid blood. And when the storm hit us, when we needed our family by our side the most... you didn't even think about us. You just ran."

Every word was a nail driven straight into my heart. I stood there, frozen, unable to defend myself because the terrible, ugly truth was staring me right in the face: I had run. I had chosen my own survival over standing by them.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, tears finally spilling over my lashes. "I'm so sorry, Dad..."

He looked at me for a long, agonizing moment, the silence stretched thin between us. Then, without another word, he opened his study door, stepped inside, and pulled it shut.

The click of the latch sounded like a sentence being passed.

I stood alone in the center of the room, the faint, lingering heat of the split mate bond buzzing beneath my skin, a cruel reminder that while two Alpha brothers were pulling me into their dark, dangerous world, the only home I had ever known had just closed its doors on me forever.