Mated to Her Alpha Brother

Chapter Six (edited)

CALLUM

Slamming the car door shut, I turned toward the building ahead, my expression somber.

Even from a distance, I could tell something was off.

There was an unnatural fluctuation in the air—a foreign energy disturbance.

Inhaling slightly, I caught the strong scent of a familiar, distasteful magical aura.

I sighed in irritation, taking cautious but unflinching steps toward the entrance, my eyes and ears attuned to even the slightest shift in my surroundings.

The door slid open on its own accord when I was only a few feet away.

If I hadn’t been certain before, I was now.

It was her doing.

Inside, my warrior wolves and the hotel staff stood in two straight lines, their bodies bent slightly at the waist as they all bowed toward the receptionist’s desk—the very center of the room.

Where she sat.

Languid and completely at ease, Duchess Victoria was delicately picking at a small bowl of what appeared to be fruit.

Or goblin eyeballs.

Knowing her, it wouldn’t surprise me.

“You’re late,” she remarked abruptly, her attention still locked onto her bowl.

“Let them go,” I snarled, my voice low and commanding.

“Ah, ah. You know how things work with me,” she cackled.

Then her voice changed—shifting into a cacophony of clashing tones and pitches that grated on my nerves.

“Now beg me, boy.”

With a slow shake of my head, I tightened my muscles, briefly gathering my strength.

Then, in the blink of an eye, I was across the room.

Pinning the old witch to the wall.

One clawed hand pressed against her throat.

A single flick of my wrist, and her head would roll to the floor.

And from the sharp intake of breath—the flicker of her shifting eyes—she knew it too.

“Fine. There,” she admitted, her eyes flashing purple for a brief second.

Immediately, the warriors and staff sagged to the floor, freed from her hold.

“Now let’s go. The Alpha expects us in twenty,” I grunted, releasing her.

“What a whimper of a man you call Alpha,” she scoffed, straightening her robes. “Not worthy of even half the title.”

“Control your tongue, witch,” I growled, baring my fangs. “Especially on these lands.”

“Hmph.” She merely huffed before striding past me toward the exit.

Duchess Victoria was… an odd creature.

Neither friend nor foe.

Her coven swore allegiance to no one.

Though she carried the title Duchess, she was more of a Queen—ruling in her mother’s absence.

The true Queen was a member of The Supreme Council, meaning governance of the coven had naturally fallen to Victoria.

But she was a sick, twisted thing.

A deranged woman who had lived nearly two centuries but still behaved like a child drunk on power.

She was an exceptionally powerful witch, specializing in mind control and hypnosis.

She could alter a person’s memories as easily as breathing, twisting them into whatever narrative she pleased.

And the victim? They would never know.

Her abilities were far more dangerous than that, but for some reason—they didn’t work on me.

I was the only one known to be immune to her mind control.

Not only that, but I could sense when she—or anyone else—used it on others.

I could see the remnants of her spellwork clinging to their auras.

And I could break them.

One roar from my wolf was enough to shatter any magical hold on a person.

But it wasn’t just her magic.

I could nullify all magic around me if I so willed it.

I could feel it. Breathe it. It clung to me like a second skin.

A connection no werewolf should ever have had.

And something I still didn’t understand to this day.

It had intrigued not only the Duchess but the other major powers of The Supremes.

Had it not been for Alpha—for Dad—I would have been turned into a lab rat, locked away and dissected by power-hungry maniacs who wanted to pry apart my existence.

“It’s such a shame,” Victoria suddenly mused, looking at me from the passenger seat.

“What?” Against better judgment, I asked.

“I wanted you for myself a little longer,” she sighed, shaking her head. “But that nasty goddess of yours is always so hateful.”

Goosebumps rose along my skin.

I didn’t want to know what she meant by that.

And looking at her old, sagging skin and yellowed teeth as she sighed wistfully made my stomach churn.

Unlike werewolves and the other Supremes, witches did not have slowed aging.

They aged normally—but they were immortal, in a sense.

They lived as long as their bodies could endure.

Most of them were terrifying to look at.

Only a very small number retained their youth—and only after paying a heavy price.

Thankfully, the rest of the ride passed in silence.

Soon, we pulled into the pack house parking lot—usually half-empty, but now filled to the brim, making it nearly impossible to find a spot.

I turned to Victoria.

“You use your magic on one person tonight, Duchess—one—and I will know. And I will find you,” I warned, my voice low. “And you will pay.”

She scoffed, unimpressed.

“You should be more concerned about who else might be here tonight,” she replied, her tone suddenly serious. “Be careful where you place your energy.”

Then, just as quickly, she cackled again.

Leaving me with nothing but uncertainty.

“Duchess—” I started, only to curse loudly when she vanished in a puff of purple smoke.

I hated when she did that.

Scrunching my nose at the lingering scent of burnt herbs, I muttered a prayer to the Luna Goddess, hoping tonight would go smoothly.

Then, I exited the car and made my way toward the building.

At the entrance, four of my warriors stood alongside a worker wolf, checking invitations.

Ensuring that no unwanted guests slipped inside.

Giving them a nod—and receiving a salute in return—I slipped past them into the building.

The tension in my chest eased when I saw the numerous warriors stationed at every corner of the venue.

Each of them equipped with the latest anti-magic gear.

No mind control. No hypnosis.

Not even Victoria could try anything with these men.

Satisfied, I turned toward the grand ballroom at the opposite end of the hall—where the low hum of chatter and soft music filtered through the open doors.

Then—

“CALLUUUUUM!”

An excited shriek rang out before I even saw him.

Opening my arms wide, I grinned as Levi’s bouncing figure came flying toward me.

Bracing for impact, I grunted softly when he latched onto me, his chubby arms tightening around my neck.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice muffled against my shoulder.

Guilt settled heavily in my chest.

It was my fault for not coming home more often.

But pack duties waited for no one.

Especially when I was the only one Alpha—Dad—trusted with crucial tasks.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be home more often, I promise,” I murmured, ruffling his already mussed-up hair.

“Ahh, don’t mess up my hair!” he giggled, wiggling in my arms.

“Okay, okay, calm down. Where’s Marmee?” I asked, adjusting him before walking toward the ballroom.

Inside, the once-empty hall was now a grand, glittering spectacle—decorated beautifully, filled with nearly 600 guests.

And yet, the ballroom still felt too big.

Not for long, though.

With more guests yet to arrive, it wouldn’t be long before it was packed.

And from across the room—

I spotted Alpha.

Spotted Dad.

And the moment he saw me, he grinned.

Waved me over.

I sighed. I wanted to see Marmee first.

But it looked like I had to socialize first.

"Hey go on now, greet marmee for okay" I say to Levi, squeezing him in a hug one last time, before setting him back down on the floor. He pouted in reluctance a bit, before bouncing away when he was called by one of the wolf pups he plays with.

Knowing dad wouldn't want him to mingle with those people too much, I had to let him go. But Goddess I missed him already. I missed home. I missed marmee. I missed her...

I believe you know my son, Callum,” Dad said, reaching over to give me a firm side hug.

We were of similar build, though he was bulkier where I was taller. It wasn’t too obvious at first glance, but standing side by side, the difference was there.

I stretched my lips into a practiced, polite smile as I took in the four men before me.

A vampire dressed in traditional Victorian English attire.

A Sun Elf draped in pristine white robes.

A werewolf in a sleek, well-tailored suit.

And a shirtless Minotaur, wearing only short pants and a bow tie fastened neatly at his thick, muscular neck.

What the actual hell?

“I’ve heard much about you,” the Sun Elf spoke first, his voice soft and ethereal.

He reeked of power, standing with an air of regality.

His expression was pleasant, but there was something chilling about his smile.

My wolf tensed.

This man was dangerous.

Many times more so than the Duchess.

Would I be able to nullify his magic? I wasn’t sure.

But one thing I did know?

I wasn’t afraid of him.

“I am Elrand of Edhellond,” he introduced, raising a hand for a handshake.

I hesitated—just slightly—before gripping his hand in a firm shake.

And the moment our hands touched—

Pain.

A numbing, almost searing sensation surged from the point of contact, creeping up my arm like a venomous burn.

But just as quickly as it came—it vanished.

Elrand yanked his hand back in shock, his golden eyes wide with something that almost looked like fear.

“Impossible,” he hissed under his breath.

I narrowed my eyes. “What did you do?” I growled, stepping forward, towering over him.

He took an uneasy step back.

“Enough, Callum,” Dad intervened, gripping my shoulder.

Not in restraint—but in warning.

His gaze remained locked on Elrand, his eyes flashing with a red cycle around the usual brown. A sign of his wolf pushing forward.

Dad was very upset.

“Leave, Elf,” he commanded, his voice dark and dangerous.

“B-but the a-alliance—” Elrand stammered.

“Edhellond is not—and will never be—an ally of mine,” Dad growled. “Leave now, or invoke war upon your tribe.”

The Elf paled.

Two of my warriors immediately stepped forward, flanking him as they prepared to escort him out.

The thick scent of his fear was almost suffocating.

With one last, wary glance at me, Elrand swallowed thickly and turned on his heel, disappearing into the crowd.

Dad exhaled slowly, then turned back to the remaining three men, a grin spreading across his face as if nothing had happened.

“So, gentlemen,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Anyone else want to harm my son, or should we get back to talking about sports?”

The remaining men chuckled awkwardly, shaking their heads.

And I just stood there, still trying to process the entire damn thing.

What the hell was that?

Dad’s reaction.

Elrand’s reaction.

The pain.

I clenched my jaw, shaking my head slightly before letting out a quiet breath.

It’s going to be a long night.