Rejected by Her Alpha, Claimed by His Brother

Chapter 3 – The Kids Between Worlds

Niko shoved past me the second the door clicked open.

He smelled like wet leaves, cold river, and cheap diner grease, all tangled over the sharp, restless edge that was just… him. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, jacket unzipped, sneakers muddy.

“You look great,” I said dryly, closing the door. “Did you roll here?”

He flicked me a glare over his shoulder, then stalked into my tiny kitchen like he lived there. “You got food?”

“Hello, Liora, thank you for opening your home in the middle of the night—”

“Food,” he repeated, already yanking open the fridge.

I sighed and leaned against the counter, watching him raid my leftovers. He pulled out a container of spaghetti, sniffed it, and nodded approval.

“Plate,” I warned. “If you eat from the container, I’m making you wash dishes.”

“That a threat or a promise?” he muttered, but he grabbed a plate.

Up close, I could see the shadows under his eyes. The way his shoulders hunched a little more than usual, like he was bracing against a blow.

My resonance stirred, a soft buzz under my skin. I didn’t have to touch him to taste the frayed edges of his temper, the bone-deep exhaustion. But touching helped me aim.

I reached past him for the cutlery drawer, letting my fingers brush his wrist.

Anger flared — hot, familiar — but underneath it tonight was something else. Fear. Not for himself.

For Sela.

“What happened?” I asked quietly.

He stiffened, shoving a fork into the spaghetti hard enough to send a strand flying. It landed on the floor. He ignored it.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Niko.”

He chewed, jaw working, staring at the microwave like it had personally offended him.

“It’s past midnight,” I continued. “You’re on the human side. Alone. You smell like you ran the whole way. Try again.”

His nostrils flared. “You sound like Maera.”

“I consider that an insult.”

A huff that might have been a laugh. He set the fork down, suddenly so still it hurt to look at him.

“Sela’s having dreams,” he said at last.

I exhaled slowly. “Nightmares?”

He shook his head. “Not… like normal ones. She says the forest talks to her.”

“Kids say stuff like that,” I started, then caught the way his hand clenched around the edge of the counter. My resonance pulsed: dread, old and new. “Okay. Tell me exactly.”

He licked sauce from his thumb, buying time, then gave up.

“She wakes up screaming,” he said, voice low. “Says there’s a big knot in the trees. Like… a ball of string. She says it’s full of kids who can’t get out.”

My chest tightened. Images I’d shoved down for three years stirred: snow, torches, circles etched into the ground.

“She’s eight,” I said. “It could be—”

“She knows stuff,” he snapped, eyes flashing up to mine. “Stuff she shouldn’t. She drew… she drew these symbols.”

He dug in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled scrap of paper, smoothing it on the counter. Childish lines, shaky from small fingers, but the shapes made my stomach drop.

Circles. Interlocking. A jagged mark like a hook. Runes I’d seen burned into trees and stone.

My breath went thin.

“Niko… when did she draw this?”

“Last week.” His voice went rough. “She said the forest was teaching her. She said…” He swallowed. “She said your name. She said you were supposed to fix it, but you left.”

Each word landed like a stone.

Resonance surged, catching the echo of a little girl’s fear, her trust. My own guilt roared up to meet it, hot and choking.

“I left so no one could use me again,” I said, before I could stop myself. The admission tasted bitter. “So no one could drag me into another circle and decide what my bond was worth to them.”

Niko’s jaw worked. “Yeah, well. The forest didn’t get that memo.”

I sank onto a chair, the paper blurring in front of me.

The pup on my table. The vision in the clinic. The way the woods hummed tonight like a low, waiting growl.

“I can’t go back,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “Not like before. I’m not—”

“Maera didn’t send me,” Niko cut in. “Nobody knows I’m here.”

I looked up. He held my gaze, chin stuck out in that stubborn way that always reminded me of Corren’s father. Of Jarek. Of every Maalik who’d ever refused to back down.

“I came,” he said, words clipped, “because Sela cries your name in her sleep. Because the trees are weird and the young ones are… wrong lately. And because tonight the whole forest jumped like someone kicked it.”

His throat bobbed. “Then I smelled him here. The new alpha. Corren.” The name sat awkwardly on his tongue. “And you. Together.”

Resonance prickled, sharp as static. The bond between me and Corren pulsed once, like it had heard.

Niko leaned closer, eyes too old for thirteen.

“If something’s happening again,” he said, “I’m not letting them do it to Sela. Or any of us. So either you help me, Liora…” His fingers tapped the paper like a promise. “…or I start breaking things until somebody notices.”

My wolf lifted her head.

The forest, beyond my thin apartment walls, breathed in.

I stared at the boy who’d already lost too much, at the child’s shaky runes, at the life I’d built on the edge of two worlds.

My answer rose from somewhere deeper than fear.

“Okay,” I said softly. “We’ll start with you and Sela.” I folded the paper, tucking it safely away. “And tomorrow… I’ll go into the forest.”

Niko’s shoulders dropped a fraction, some knot in him loosening.

“Good,” he muttered, grabbing his fork again. “Because the forest’s already coming to you.”