Chapter 2 Mates

CASEY'S POV

His eyes narrowed into a ferocious look that could penetrate steel.

"What is this?" His voice thundered, reflecting the rage that emanated from him.

"Have the moon goddess chosen to ruin me finally?"

My tattered garments hung loosely over my torso, trepidation and panic filled me as I faced Alpha Bran's angry gaze, wondering whether this night would be the end of my existence.

"I can't have an outcast, and weak wolf like you as my mate," he spoke stepping closer to me, as I moved backward slowly.

"I Alpha Bran Sterling rejects you as my mate," he said, while I shook my head negatively, as hot tears clouded my eyes.

"What are you waiting for, accept my rejection, and break this mate bond," he commanded with his voice sounding like thunder.

"No, I can't," I managed to say, while shaking my head negatively.

His command cut through the tense air like a razor.

"Take her away, and lock her up until I she is ready to accept my rejection and break this mate bond.."

The words hung thick in the air, confirming my fate as I was dragged away by Alpha Bran's men, their emotions a mix of disgust and submission.

The confinement chamber was cold, damp walls encircling the space, and the scent of stale air mingled with faint traces of past inmates.

I was placed in a small cell, with iron bars separating me from the outside world. I sat on the cold stone floor, leaned against the wall, and let out a deep sigh.

I knew I was on the verge of death. Rather than accept me as his mate, Alpha Bran would prefer to kill me.

Hours passed in the stillness of my imprisonment, interrupted only by the infrequent walking of guards patrolling the area. Still thinking about the ridiculousness of my predicament, my eyes quickly became heavy with sleep.

Alpha Bran's POV

As I slept in the cold embrace of dawn, memories of Olga surged through my mind like a relentless tsunami. The wind's melancholy scream outside seemed to reflect the grief in my heart, rousing me from the depths of slumber but not quite bringing me to full awake. I found myself caught in that bittersweet state between dreams and reality, where the past and present merge in a disturbing dance.

Olga, my beloved mate, died a decade ago, yet her absence is still evident in my soul. She was the embodiment of beauty, with gushing black hair that equaled the darkest night, soul piercing eyes that carried ages' worth of wisdom, lips that shouted words of love and laughter, hands that eased my fears, and a smile that could brighten even the darkest days.

I remember her lighthearted banter and visions of a future full of puppies and happiness. "Twenty pups, each with eyes like mine and strength like yours," she'd add, her eyes sparkling like the stars. She was my everything, the brightness that shone through the gloom of my existence.

But fate, harsh and heartless, took her from me too soon. The night she died left a permanent mark on my memories. The pain of that loss is a constant companion, a burden I carry even as time passes. No she-wolf could ever replace Olga; she was unique, a rare treasure in a world full of passing moments.

As a result, I am locked in a cycle of wanting and regret, unable to move forward yet also unable to turn back time. The isolation of my chamber, once a shelter for us, now echoes with haunting whispers of memories long forgotten.

After all, what is life if not ironic? The strong Alpha, once feared and revered, is reduced to a solitary figure haunted by memories and unfulfilled desires.

As I finally wake up from the grip of half-sleep, I prepare for the day ahead. The responsibilities of leadership call, and I must put on the mask of power once more. However, beneath that mask is a heart that is still in sorrow, a heart that longs for a second shot at love but is afraid of experiencing the anguish of loss again.

With a heavy sigh, I dismiss the memories and concentrate on the present. The Alpha must be strong and unyielding, even in the face of personal grief. So I brace myself for whatever hardships the day may bring, while holding Olga's memory like a treasured pearl deep within my spirit.

The cold morning air wrapped around me like a shroud as I stepped out bare-chested and barefooted, a conscious decision to remind myself of my weakness.

Something about the bite of cold on naked skin sharpens the intellect, a type of self-imposed discipline that I find weirdly pleasurable.

My gaze moved across the familiar scene, taking in the towering trees, serpentine roads, and distant howls of pack members starting the day. I made my way to a large rock near my chamber, which I've learned to enjoy over the years.

Perched atop the rock, I closed my eyes and allowed the cold to penetrate into my bones, grounding me in the present now.

My daily routine began with deep, meditative breathing, a technique that helps me clear my head and focus my thoughts. The chill in the air provided another degree of discipline.

As I sank into my meditation, a notion remained at the edge of my awareness.

"If the moon goddess pleases, I ask for a second chance mate who isn't curses," I said softly, the words laden with longing and sorrow.

It's a whispered appeal, a murmur to the heavens that perhaps, just maybe, there could be another shot at love despite the scars of the past.

With that unspoken request lingering in the air, I turned my attention to the physical aspects of my regimen. I reached for the nearby logs, lifting them several times, and pushing myself to the limit, savoring the burn in my muscles.

The session left me breathless but energized, with a solid, satisfying pump coursing through my veins. A cold bath in the river would be the ideal way to finish my morning routine.

Just as I was about to leave for the river, a tremendous noise broke through the peaceful morning, disrupting the peacefulness of the woods.

My senses intensified, and every instinct was on high alert as I searched my surroundings. The pack was generally a symphony of organized pandemonium in the mornings, but this noise was discordant.

With cautious steps, I followed the source of the disturbance, curiosity mingling with caution.

I arrived at the source of the noise, surveying the area with measured and methodical steps.

Two massive Doerner Fir trees had fallen, their stately forms reduced to a tangle of branches and splintered timber; they had clearly been struck by lightning.

As I surveyed the remnants of nature's fury, my mind unintentionally turned to the thorn in my side, the cursed wolf in my pack. She wasn't even a true wolf yet, her bloodline polluted by a curse that made her an outcast. I could feel the same rush of disgust and resentment rising within me.

Luke's name lingered in my head, if only I could murder him again for daring to defy my authority; the memory of his defiance still infuriates me. But the dead cannot be punished twice, no matter how much they deserve.

The only option I had left was to make Casey's life as wretched and awful as possible, was the fact that I had imprisoned her, and was now making sure she would starved.

Lost in my thoughts, I was brought back to the present moment by the greeting of one of the employees.

"Alpha Bran," she spoke up, bowing her head in the process.

"Hey," I said curtly, my tone showing none of the conflict inside me.

"Where are you off to?" I asked her, while stared at her.

"To start my job for the day, Alpha Bran,"

"Good. So you don't have to stop just go ahead," I told her, while she just shook her head and try to Walk away, but I stopped her.

"Has the prisoner being feed?" I asked her, while she quickly responded with a 'no'

"Okay that's better, because I don't want her to be given any food in this house," I told her, and she nodded immediately, promising to make sure of that, before I signed her to leave.

All I wanted was for her to regret what she didn't accept my rejection and break our mate bond. So I'm going to enjoy tormenting her.