Tethered By Fate

Chapter Seven

If I had known being mated to an alpha came with shopping, I might have run faster.

“Do I have to go?” I asked for the third time as Tristan handed me a granola bar like it was a peace offering.

He raised a brow. “You wore the same hoodie for three days straight.”

“It’s called consistency.”

He didn’t laugh.

Instead, he opened the front door, revealing a tall man—all golden skin, kind eyes and a smile like he’d known me for years. “Morning, Luna.”

I made a face. “You can just call me Lily.”

“Lily,” Tristan said, nodding toward a tall guy with an easy grin. “This is Mason, my beta.”

Behind him stood a woman with long black hair with gorgeous ocean blue eyes. She seemed like the quiet type but her elegance hit me like a breeze. She was beautiful, yes but in that calm, graceful way that made her presence feel oddly reassuring.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mason's mate Christina, ” she said warmly. “Welcome to Shadowclaw.”

I blinked. “Thanks?”

“You’ll get used to it,” Mason added. “Eventually.”

Tristan said, heading for the door. “We’re going shopping.”

“Oh,” Christina said with a soft smile. “You’re taking her yourself?”

“Why do you sound surprised?” Tristan asked.

“Because you hate shopping,” Mason said.

“Loathe it actually.” Tristan replied.

“You two kids have fun,” Mason grinned.

It wasn’t fun.

Tristan drove like a man on a mission— silent, precise, jaw locked in a way that said don’t ask questions. His hands gripped the wheel like it owed him something and eyes fixed on the road.

I didn’t say anything. Partly because the view outside was stealing the words right out of my mouth.

The further we drove, the more the forest peeled back, dense green breaking into long stretches of open terrain. The trees here were taller than back at my old pack, older too, with thick trunks that twisted toward the sky like they were guarding something ancient.

We passed wolves training in the distance. Running drills, sparring, shifting in smooth, seamless movements. They looked lethal. Disciplined. A real warrior pack.

Eventually, the wilderness faded into neat roads and manicured streets.

Glass buildings stretched high into the sky, gleaming in the sunlight. Sharp, modern architecture, clean angles, metallic detailing, stone and steel stacked in ways that made everything look expensive but designed, not cold. It wasn’t cluttered, no the spacing was wide, deliberate, like someone had planned every corner with precision.

Boutiques sat in low-rise buildings with smooth black frames and frosted glass windows, their names etched in sleek silver or matte gold lettering. Restaurants and cafés had outdoor seating lined with modern furniture. Neutral colors, light wood, umbrellas made of thick canvas. Some buildings had vertical gardens climbing up their sides, while others boasted rooftop terraces with glass balconies and hanging lights strung above.

Even the people looked different.

Sharp eyes. Straight backs. Confidence dripping from every step. They were everywhere but no one was rushing.

Stylishly dressed wolves moved in and out of stores like they belonged in this polished, structured world. They talked, laughed, checked phones. There were security patrols too—subtle but present, in dark uniforms that matched the energy: quiet strength beneath all the beauty.

The sidewalks were wide, made of large stone slabs with embedded path lighting, and the streets were so clean it was honestly a little unsettling.

“This is the pack’s territory?” I asked quietly.

Tristan nodded, eyes forward. “The capital.”

Eventually, Tristan finally broke the silence as we pulled into a row of upscale boutiques that looked too expensive to breathe near.

“Let's go,” he said without looking at me.

Then he got out and shut the door behind him.

I exhaled, grabbed the door handle, and followed him out into this new world that didn’t feel mine yet somehow, I was already a part of.

Tristan walked ahead like this was another battlefield. “Grab what you need. Training clothes, casual, formal, something for the council dinner…”

“The what now?”

He ignored me. Typical.

The first few outfits were easy. Leggings. Hoodies. Tank tops.

Then it devolved.

I stepped out of the fitting room in a silky wine-red dress that hugged a little too well and twirled just to be annoying. “This looks good.”

Tristan didn’t blink. “No.”

I blinked back. “Why not?”

“It’s too short.”

“It covers everything.”

“Not when you move.”

I raised a brow. “You said I could pick what I like.”

“I meant from this rack,” he said, pointing to a much less exciting row of gray and black options.

“I crossed my arms. “You’re exhausting.”

“So are you.”

Three boutiques and four shopping bags later, I was starving, sweaty, and ready to murder someone.

Probably him.

“Do we have enough?” I groaned, flopping onto a bench outside the last store.

“We have a start.”

“A start? I’ve tried on more clothes today than I’ve owned my entire life.”

Tristan sat beside me, still maddeningly calm. “You’re part of this pack now. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” I snorted.

His expression softened just slightly. “In your skin.”

I turned away, annoyed that his voice sounded honest.

“I need food,” I said.

He stood. “Come on.”

We found a small diner, quiet, clean and mostly empty. I inhaled my fries like a woman possessed while Tristan watched with something that looked suspiciously like amusement.

“Why are you staring?” I asked.

“You eat like you haven’t in days.”

“I’m feeding my soul that has been starving for days, thanks.”

He didn’t laugh, but the corner of his mouth curved. “Noted.”

After we finished, I practically sleepwalked through the ride back. By the time we got home, I dropped the bags just inside the suite door and collapsed on the bed.

---

The next morning, death came for me at 4:45 a.m.

“Lily,” Tristan’s voice broke through the haze.

I pulled the covers over my head.

“Training.”

“Hard pass.”

He yanked the covers off. “Up. Now.”

I gasped, clutching my pajama top like I’d been personally violated by the draft. “What is wrong with you?!”

“You need to get dressed.”

“I need to disown you.”

Tristan stood at the edge of the bed, arms crossed, totally unmoved by my suffering. “You said you wanted to be stronger.”

“I meant emotionally,” I groaned, rolling off the bed and landing on my feet like a wounded baby deer. “Physically, I am fine being weak and sarcastic.”

“You’ll thank me later.”

I rolled out of bed like a corpse reanimating. “I hate you.”

“You’ll hate me more soon.”