Promised to the Alfa's Son, Fated to Another

Chapter nine

Casey felt her heartbeat thundering in her ears, so loud it drowned the voices around her. When Alfie’s lips brushed her hand, her vision swam, and for a split second she thought she might faint. Instinctively, she clutched at Payton’s arm, squeezing so hard he winced and whispered a silent ouch. No one else noticed.

Chloe, quick on her feet, moved to smooth the silence. She exchanged polite words with Alpha Elijah and Savanna before slipping to Casey’s side, anchoring her with her presence.

Conversations picked up again—about the official engagement party at the Satton mansion, about the invitations that would need to be sent to neighboring packs. Future Alpha’s marriage was a monumental event in the region, one that demanded spectacle.

Casey barely heard them. She drained one glass of champagne, then another, desperate to mute the panic clawing at her chest.

“Can I bring you something?” Alfie’s voice pulled her back. He appeared at her side with two fresh glasses.

“Seems like you’ve already chosen her drink,” Payton muttered with a smirk.

“Stop it,” Casey hissed, her cheeks burning as her father’s disapproving eyes landed on them. She snatched the glass from Alfie. “I’ll take it.”

Alfie mistook her acceptance as encouragement. “Then perhaps we could talk in private? As future husband and wife, it’s only reasonable we try to know each other better.”

“Not today,” Casey said flatly, taking a long sip.

“I insist.” His silver eyes caught hers, persuasion heavy in his voice.

“You heard her,” Payton growled, low but unmistakable.

Casey’s stomach dropped. A growl at the Alpha’s heir was no small defiance—it was a direct challenge. Horrified, she tugged at her brother’s sleeve, desperate to keep him from making it worse. Then, forcing a brittle smile, she turned back to Alfie.

“If you want to talk, fine,” she said quickly, stepping toward a sofa in the corner. “Just… not here.”

Alfie’s lips curved with satisfaction as he followed. She came to sit by me. Close enough to smell her lavender perfume, close enough that his wolf stirred with hunger. He wanted to lean in, wanted to taste her, but even now he could feel the tension radiating from her—like prey ready to bolt.

“I hope you know,” he said, lowering his voice, “that I’m truly happy you accepted.”

Casey met his gaze. Her voice trembled, but her words didn’t. “Do you want the truth?”

Alfie blinked, surprised. “Always.”

“Would you still be happy,” she asked, “if I told you I don’t want any marriage at all?”

For the first time, his confidence faltered. He studied her, glass poised halfway to his lips. “I’d say I’m not surprised. I know you’ve had… struggles. But I believe we can manage this minor obstacle.”

“Minor?” The word left her like a blade.

“If it feels larger—” he began, but she cut him off with a look, sharp and scalding.

“Whatever you think this is, it’s not minor. And if you ever want me as your wife,” she said coldly, “start paying attention.”

She rose to leave, but his hand shot out, gripping hers.

Across the room, Ava noticed. Her eyes widened when Casey twisted her wrist and nearly broke his hold. A grin tugged at her lips. I think I’m going to like her.

Alfie’s control slipped. His wolf surged forward, his eyes flashing molten silver as he growled low in his throat.

Casey froze. Her chest clenched. Those eyes. The same eyes I saw in the forest. Her wolf recoiled, confused and terrified. Her breath hitched as Elijah’s voice called his son away, breaking the moment. She looked down at her palm—still bare. No mark.

So was it him? Or not?

“What’s wrong?” Chloe’s voice snapped her back.

“I don’t know,” Casey whispered. “I think… I think he might be my mate. But there’s no mark.”

“Alfie? Your mate?” Chloe shook her head hard. “Girl, that’s not a bond, that’s a nightmare.”

Casey stared across the room. Alfie stood with his parents, face the picture of composure, but his eyes kept flicking to her—possessive, hungry.

“He grabbed my hand,” she muttered, fury in her voice.

Chloe squeezed tighter. “Listen. He doesn’t know what you’ve been through. He doesn’t know that you’d rather fight to the death than submit. Maybe—just maybe—you need to explain it to him.”

“Explain myself? To him?” Casey snapped.

“Or,” Chloe whispered, “you’ll end up alone in this marriage. And that might be worse.”

Casey’s jaw locked. She looked at Alfie again, and saw not a partner, not a savior—but a predator smiling through polite conversation.

“The hell I will,” she hissed. “I’d rather burn than bow to that jerk.”