Never Yours Alpha

CH 2 - Simon

SIMON POV

The photograph in my hand had started to curl at the corners from how often I handled it, but I kept staring at it anyway, letting my eyes trace every detail as if I could memorize her all over again. Lily stood in the fae gardens in the image, wearing a pale dress with too many layers and an expression that didn’t match the setting. Everyone else in the picture laughed or smiled or posed the way fae nobles always do, but Lily looked like she wanted to step out of the frame and run. It didn’t matter that I’d seen the photograph a hundred times; every time I looked at it, something in me tightened as if remembering a promise I’d never said out loud.

Bailor sat across from me, shifting his weight like he had something stuck in his throat. He usually wasn’t this hesitant, but talking about Lily always put him on edge, partly because he knew what she meant to me and partly because he knew news about the fae realm was rarely good news for wolves.

“You can start,” I told him, still looking at the photo. “The sooner you talk, the sooner I stop making you nervous.”

He snorted, but the sound lacked its usual confidence. “All right. A new report came in this morning from our contacts in the fae court.”

“Go on.”

He tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Queen Petunia is planning an event. A large one. Larger than anything they’ve hosted in decades. They’re calling it a Realm’s Blessing Ball for her daughter’s eighteenth birthday.”

I finally looked up from the photograph. “They’re preparing already?”

“The party plans started two weeks ago,” he replied. “But the final confirmations went out yesterday. Every noble house is expected to attend. It’s going to be… big. Even for fae standards.”

I leaned back in my chair, tapping my finger against the table as the information settled. The fae didn’t do anything halfway. If they were planning a party, it meant theatrics, politics, and endless scrutiny. And if the party was for Lily, then the scrutiny would be ten times worse.

“And wolves aren’t allowed,” I said, not asking, just stating the obvious.

“No,” Bailor confirmed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not even royal wolves. The Queen made that very clear.”

Of course she had. Queen Petunia never hid her disdain for our kind. After losing her daughter to rogue wolves, she had every reason to be cautious, though the fact that we were the ones who found Lily and returned her never mattered to her. In her eyes, we reminded her of everything she’d lost, and I reminded her of the moment she almost lost Lily again because Lily clung to me instead of her.

I didn’t resent the Queen for her fear. I understood it. But I did resent the way she had made her boundaries with Lily absolute and non-negotiable.

Bailor hesitated before speaking again, which meant whatever came next would be worse.

“There’s something else,” he said.

I didn’t respond, waiting for him to gather the nerve.

“The nobles are spreading rumors,” he continued slowly. “A lot of them. And they’re growing louder every day.”

I set the photo down. “About what.”

“About Princess Lily being engaged.”

The photograph crushed between my fingers before I even realized I’d picked it back up. The paper crumpled easily, a small thing compared to the pressure building in my chest.

“Engaged to who?” My voice came out low, controlled, but the rage simmering underneath it was impossible to hide.

“A fae noble,” Bailor said carefully. “Councilman Grint’s son.”

I stood too quickly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor, but I barely registered the sound. “She wouldn’t be eighteen until the twenty-fourth of December. How could they be mates? That’s impossible.”

“They’re not mates,” Bailor answered quickly. “It’s been arranged. The Queen approved it herself.”

For a moment, the room felt too small, too warm, and too silent. Lily—engaged. Arranged by her own mother. Bound to a fae noble she’d probably never spoken to. A political marriage decided without her say. Without her being of age. Without her wolf—if she had one—to reject or accept the bond.

It was unacceptable.

“Not happening,” I said, letting the words settle like iron. “She will not be tied to anyone but her true mate, and certainly not for political convenience.”

Bailor lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Simon—”

“No,” I cut in. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

He closed his mouth and lowered his eyes because he knew there was no arguing with me when I sounded like this, and honestly, I appreciated it. I wasn’t in the mood for diplomacy. I wasn’t in the mood for reason either.

My wolf pushed against my skin, restless and angry. Not because of some romantic claim, not because I thought Lily belonged to me in a way lovers belonged to each other—nothing like that. It was something older, deeper, and far more unyielding. When I had carried her out of that prison cell all those years ago, tiny and terrified and clinging to my shirt like she’d drown without something to hold onto, something inside me had anchored itself to her survival. To her safety. To her wellbeing.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even affection.

It was responsibility, carved into me like a brand.

“Do you remember what Queen Petunia told you?” Bailor asked, his voice quiet.

I took a slow breath. “She asked me not to contact Lily.”

“She ordered you,” he reminded me.

Bailor let out a slow breath, then said the words I’d been expecting since he sat down. “So what now.”

“I’m going to Faerie,” I said.

“Okay, it’s official. You’ve lost your mind.”

“I have not .”

“The Queen will see it like we’re asking for war.”

“So is arranging a marriage for a girl who doesn’t have her full power yet.”

Involving myself in fae affairs was reckless, but letting her enter adulthood without protection was worse.

“Simon—”

“I’m not waiting for the Queen’s permission or the nobles’ approval,” I said, turning back to him. “I’m going to her birthday celebration.”

“You won’t be allowed past the gates.”

“I won’t be using the gates.”

Bailor pressed a hand over his face. “You’ve already made up your mind.”

“I made up my mind the day I carried her out of that cell,” I said plainly. “She was a terrified child with no one to guard her but a group of wolves who weren’t supposed to care, and yet I did. I still do. That hasn’t changed.”

And if the Queen believed my presence did more harm than good, I had no right to contradict her — not when the child clinging to me was barely breathing from fear.

He nodded as if that answer made sense, though I wasn’t entirely sure it did even to me.

“Then I’ll gather what you need,” he said. “A glamour strong enough to hide your scent, and information on any weak points in the fae barrier.”

“Good.”

Bailor rose but hesitated at the door. “Simon?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t go in there looking for a child.”

I didn’t look away from the window. “I won’t.”

“She’s grown now.”

“I know.”

“But she won’t see you the same way she did back then.”

“I’m not going for her approval,” I said. “I’m going to stop that marriage.”

Bailor accepted that and left the room.

I picked up the crushed photograph once more, smoothing the edges as best I could. The image was damaged now, but her face was still visible, still familiar, still the same girl I’d sworn—silently, privately—to protect with whatever strength I possessed.

Lily might not want anything from me. She might not remember those days clearly. She might resent my absence.

But it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to let her cage herself in another golden prison with a prick by her side.

I tucked the photograph into my pocket and reached for my coat.

Five days until her eighteenth birthday.

Five days until the entire fae realm gathered in judgment.

Five days until they tried to bind her to someone unworthy.

I stepped out onto the balcony, letting the cold air hit my face.

“Hold on, little flower,” I murmured, not out of tenderness but simple determination.

“I will not let you marry anyone that is not your true mate. ”