After My Mate Chose Her, His Enemy Claimed Me

The car rattled over uneven terrain, jostling me against the cold metal floor of the transport vehicle. My body ached from the journey, but it was nothing compared to the hollow pain in my chest where my wolf once lived. Through the small barred window, I caught glimpses of dense forest giving way to towering mountains, their peaks lost in mist.

"We're entering the Northern territory," one of the guards muttered, his voice tense.

The other guard—a massive man with a scar running down his neck—nodded grimly. "Prayer doesn't hurt."

I closed my eyes, too weak to respond. What did it matter now? My wolf was fading, my pack had rejected me, and I was being delivered as tribute to a feral Alpha who might tear me apart for sport.

The vehicle slowed as we approached an enormous stone fortress built directly into the mountainside. Ancient symbols carved into the rock seemed to pulse with an eerie blue light as we passed through massive iron gates.

"Welcome to Blackthorn Citadel," the scarred guard announced, his voice echoing in the cavernous entryway.

Two rows of Lycan guards stood at attention, their eyes glowing with an intensity that made my skin crawl. The air here felt different—heavier, charged with a power that made it hard to breathe.

"Bring the offering," a deep voice commanded from somewhere ahead.

The guards dragged me forward, my legs barely supporting me. We entered a vast hall where shadows seemed to live and breathe along the walls. At the far end, a figure sat on a throne-like chair, cloaked in darkness.

"Alpha Nichols," the guard announced with a bow so deep his forehead nearly touched the floor. "The tribute from Blood River Pack."

The figure didn't move. I could feel his power rolling through the room in waves, making the guards tremble.

"Leave us," he ordered, his voice like gravel.

The guards scurried away, leaving me alone in the center of the hall. I swayed on my feet, fighting to stay conscious.

"Come closer."

I forced myself to take one step, then another. The figure remained motionless, but I could feel his eyes tracking my movement.

"Stop."

I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Slowly, the figure rose from his seat. As he stepped into a shaft of moonlight streaming through a high window, I gasped. He was massive—at least seven feet tall—with broad shoulders and arms marked with ancient scars. His face was half-hidden by a beard, but his eyes gleamed with an animal intensity that made my blood run cold.

This was Rome Nichols. The feral Alpha. The monster who would decide my fate.

He circled me slowly, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air. I stood rigid, unable to move as his presence washed over me like a physical force.

"Such pain," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Such betrayal."

Suddenly, he stopped directly in front of me. His eyes—which had been a dangerous amber—flashed gold.

"Mate," he whispered, the word hanging in the air between us.

I blinked in confusion. That wasn't possible. I already had a mate—a mate who had rejected me.

Rome reached out slowly, his massive hand coming to rest against my cheek. The touch was gentle, almost reverent. A spark of warmth spread from his fingertips, soothing the raw edges of my soul.

"Not like him," Rome said, as if reading my thoughts. "Second chance. Blessed by the Moon herself."

He shrugged off his heavy coat and wrapped it around my shoulders. The gesture was so unexpected that I heard a gasp from the doorway where his Beta stood watching, his face a mask of shock.

"Marcus," Rome called without taking his eyes from me. "Bring Elena. Now."

---

"The damage is extensive," Elena said, her gentle hands moving over my body as she assessed my condition. "But not beyond repair."

Rome paced the room—his private chambers, not the dungeons I had expected—his energy making the air crackle.

"Explain," he demanded, his voice tight with controlled rage.

Elena, a petite woman with silver streaking her dark hair, met his gaze steadily. "She is what we call a Late Bloomer, Alpha. An Alpha female whose growth was stunted by dark magic and trauma."

"Alpha female?" I whispered, the words foreign on my tongue.

Elena nodded. "Yes, child. Your wolf was never weak—she was suppressed. Bound by those who feared your power."

Rome stopped pacing and knelt beside the bed where I lay. "Who did this to you?"

The gentleness in his voice broke something inside me. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I tried to speak.

"Easy," he murmured, gathering me carefully in his arms. "You're safe now."

He reached for a cup of broth Elena had prepared and held it to my lips. "Drink," he encouraged. "Let me take care of you."

As the warm liquid slid down my throat, I felt something stir within me—a faint whisper where my wolf had once howled.

"She's responding," Elena said softly. "The bond is already forming."

Rome's eyes met mine, golden and fierce with protective intensity. "Rest now," he said. "Tomorrow, we begin to heal what was broken."

In his arms, surrounded by his warmth and strength, I felt something I thought I'd never feel again.

Hope.