My Alpha Mate Chose My Sister

The summons always came after midnight, when the pack house was silent and the moon was high enough to cast shadows I could feel but never see. My world was a landscape of sounds and scents, a map drawn in the creak of floorboards and the heavy, metallic tang of fear.

"Get up," the guard grunted, banging his fist on the thin wood of my door. "Alpha needs you."

I didn't argue. I never did. Arguing with Alpha Caleb Payne was a death sentence, and I had a five-year-old daughter sleeping in the cot beside me. I reached out, my fingers brushing the soft, steady rise and fall of Stormi's chest. She smelled of milk and innocence, a stark contrast to the rot that was slowly consuming her father.

"Coming," I whispered, grabbing my cane.

I navigated the hallways by memory. Five steps to the stairs. Twelve steps down. Turn left at the scent of lemon polish. The air grew colder as I approached his office, heavy with the oppressive weight of his aura. It was a chaotic storm of power that tasted like ozone and burning wood—the scent of Alpha Madness.

When I entered, the door clicked shut behind me, locking us in.

"You took too long," Caleb growled. His voice was rough, like gravel grinding together. I could hear the heavy panting of a wolf fighting for control.

"I came as fast as I could, Alpha," I said, keeping my head bowed. It was safer to look at the floor I couldn't see than the man who hated me for existing.

"Sit." It wasn't an offer; it was a command laced with Alpha power that forced my knees to buckle. I sank into the chair.

I heard him move, the heavy thud of his boots pacing the floor. Then, he was right in front of me. He grabbed my wrist, his grip bruising. "Do it. The rage... it's tearing my skull apart."

I didn't flinch as he pulled a small silver knife from his desk. I felt the sharp bite of cold metal against my forearm, followed by the warm trickle of blood. He didn't drink it—he wasn't a vampire—but he brought his face close to the wound, inhaling deeply. My blood, the blood of a Healer, carried a scent that acted as a sedative to his condition. It was the only thing keeping the madness at bay.

For a long minute, the only sound was his ragged breathing slowing down, syncing with the rhythm of the room. The burning ozone smell faded, replaced by his natural scent of pine and rain—the scent that used to make my heart flutter before he shattered it.

"Better," he sighed, releasing my arm. He didn't offer a bandage. He never did. I pressed my hand over the cut, stemming the flow.

"You can leave," he said, his voice cold again, stripped of the desperation from moments before. "And Ava? Stay out of sight tomorrow. The Moon Festival is for the pack, not for broken things like you."

"Yes, Alpha," I whispered. "I understand."

"Good. A blind Omega is an embarrassment enough without you tripping over your own feet in front of the guests. Go."

I walked back to my room, the sting in my arm nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest. He was my fated mate. The Moon Goddess had designed us for each other. But to Caleb, I was just a medical dispenser with a pulse.

***

The next evening, the Pack House was alive. Even from the servants' quarters in the basement, I could hear the music and laughter drifting down. It smelled of roasted meat and sweet wine.

"Mommy?" Stormi tugged on my skirt. "Can we see the lights? Just for a second? Please? Joelle said they put up blue lanterns!"

My heart squeezed. Stormi had never seen a festival. Caleb forbade it. But she was five, and her world was so small.

"We have to be very quiet, Stormi," I warned, my resolve crumbling. "We stay in the shadows."

"I promise! I'll be a ninja!"

We crept up the back stairs. I held her small hand tightly, letting her guide me. We found a corner behind a heavy velvet curtain near the main hall. I could hear the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation.

"It's beautiful," Stormi whispered, her voice full of awe. "Everything is blue!"

Suddenly, the curtain was ripped back.

"Well, look what we have here," a voice drawled. It was high, sweet, and laced with poison. Selah.

I froze. The scent of cloying vanilla perfume filled my nose. Selah Arnold, Caleb's 'Chosen Mate,' the woman living the life that should have been mine.

"We were just leaving," I said quickly, pulling Stormi behind me.

"Oh, don't rush off, Ava," Selah laughed. I heard the rustle of silk as she stepped closer. "And the little mutt is here too. Still hasn't shifted? Shame. Weakness really does run in the family."

"Leave her alone, Selah," I said, my voice shaking.

"Oops!"

Splash.

Cold liquid soaked through the front of my dress, smelling of expensive red wine. A gasp rippled through the nearby crowd.

"You clumsy idiot!" Selah shrieked, flipping the script instantly. "You walked right into me! That was a vintage Merlot!"

"I... I didn't move," I stammered, disoriented.

"What is going on here?" The Alpha's voice cut through the noise like a whip. The music stopped. The hall went silent.

"Caleb, darling!" Selah cried. "This... this blind wretch stumbled into me and ruined the mood! And she brought that child here, after you specifically forbade it!"

I felt Caleb's presence loom over me. The heat of his anger radiated against my skin. I waited for him to ask what happened. I waited for him to defend the mother of his child.

"Ava," Caleb said, his voice low and dangerous. "I gave you an order."

"She didn't do it!" Stormi piped up, her small voice trembling but brave. "The lady threw the juice!"

"Silence!" Caleb roared. Stormi whimpered, burying her face in my leg.

"Clean it up," Caleb spat at me. "Now."

"Caleb..." I started, my throat tight.

"On your knees, Ava. Clean the floor. Show the pack where you belong."

I heard Selah giggle softly. Slowly, painfully, I lowered myself to the cold tiles. My hand found a discarded napkin, and I began to scrub at the sticky puddle of wine, while the man who was supposed to cherish me watched with cold indifference.