My Dream Mate Hates Me

Sage’s POV

Murmurs.

At first, they were hushed—scattered like dry leaves in the wind, whispered behind cupped hands and wary glances.

Then they grew louder.

Bolder.

“But why should we leave anyone behind?” an Alpha from the northern pack demanded, his tone sharp with protest. “We came here to discuss a war, not to be treated like prisoners!”

A ripple of agreement moved through the room.

“Yes,” another spoke up, “our packs aren’t the ones plotting against the crown.”

“I will not leave my people at the mercy of another pack,” someone else grumbled.

The noise built—layer upon layer of indignation, a storm of raised voices threatening to spill over.

And through it all, Ronan sat still.

Watching.

Waiting.

Then—

a sharp crack echoed through the hall as his hand slammed onto the table. The heavy wood groaned beneath the force.

Silence fell instantly.

“I do not recall asking for your approval.”

His voice was calm. Too calm.

The kind of calm that made your pulse stutter—because beneath it, there was something dangerous. Something cold and merciless.

Ronan’s golden eyes swept the room, steady and lethal.

“You seem to have forgotten that you are not here as guests,” he said, each word measured, deliberate. “You are here because there is a threat—a traitor among us.”

His gaze darkened. “And I do not trust a single one of you.”

The weight of those words pressed down like a suffocating fog.

A few Alphas clenched their jaws. Others lowered their eyes. No one dared speak.

Ronan leaned back slightly, his posture deceptively relaxed. “Those left behind will be treated well and trained should war break out. That is not a request—it is an order. You may either accept it… or leave your packs exposed.”

A tense pause followed.

Then—

a reluctant murmur of agreement rippled across the hall. Some exchanged wary glances. Others nodded stiffly. A few still looked like they wanted to argue—but even they knew better.

Ronan had spoken.

And no one defied the Alpha King.

One by one, the decisions began. Most Alphas had brought either their Betas or Lunas, and so the choice of who to leave behind was obvious.

My father had brought two of us—his Beta, and me.

I could already see it in his eyes—the decision forming, logical and safe.

He would leave his Beta.

And I would be going home.

Relief swelled in my chest as he opened his mouth to speak—

“She stays.”

Ronan’s voice sliced through the air like a blade.

A chill tore through me.

For a second, I thought I’d misheard him.

But my father’s entire body went rigid beside me.

I hadn’t.

Every gaze in the room turned toward me.

I swallowed, my throat dry. “What?”

My father’s voice was calm, too calm. “Your Majesty?”

Ronan met his gaze, unflinching. “She stays.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Whispers rose around us, questions in every pair of eyes.

Why her?

My father’s hands clenched at his sides, his jaw tight. “Your Majesty,” he said, careful, controlled, “I understand the need to keep a representative from each pack. But surely my Beta—he is experienced, trained—”

“I don’t need experience,” Ronan cut in, his tone smooth as glass. “I need obedience.”

His gaze shifted to me, sharp and heavy as a touch.

My stomach twisted.

He wasn’t doing this for strategy. He was punishing me—for speaking out, for defying him, for being his mate when he clearly didn’t want one.

“My Beta will remain,” my father said again, firmer this time.

Ronan didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He simply watched my father in silence for a moment that dragged too long, too dangerous.

Then he said, simply, “No.”

The air in the hall turned thick and electric.

I knew that look on my father’s face. The quiet fury. The unwillingness to yield.

But I also knew Ronan.

And I knew that if this continued, if my father pushed him any further—he’d lose.

Ronan wasn’t going to let me go.

Not now.

Not ever.

A sharp ache spread through my chest, heavy and suffocating.

I didn’t want to stay.

Not after everything he’d said.

Not after the way he’d humiliated me.

Not after the way he’d looked at me—like I was nothing.

But I had no choice.

I turned to my father. He was still staring at Ronan, his expression stone, but his eyes burned with fury.

I forced a smile—weak, trembling, but a smile nonetheless.

“It’s okay, Father,” I said softly.

He looked at me sharply, disbelief flickering across his face.

But I kept smiling.

I needed him to believe it.

To let go.

To leave.

He’d already lost my mother.

Now, he was losing me too.

But I wouldn’t let him see my fear.

I wouldn’t let him carry that pain.

“I’ll be fine,” I lied.

He stared at me for a long, agonizing moment.

Then, finally, he nodded—once.

The murmurs rose again, but I barely heard them.

Ronan turned away, already done with the discussion.

And just like that—

I was trapped.

A prisoner in his castle.