Chapter 8: Anger

Lucian’s POV

When they brought her to us, her scent filled the air, rich and undeniable, tugging at our instincts, stirring something raw and primal within each of us. But we fought against it, resisting the pull that should have bound us to her. She might be our fated mate, but she was also the daughter of Nikolay Vladislav, the man who had destroyed everything and everyone we cared about.

That fate bond—something she’d insulted by giving herself to others—meant we owed her nothing but the disdain her father had earned. We were determined to make sure a part of that bastard suffered, and she was our means to fulfill that promise.

In every sense, she seemed to mirror her father: loose, reckless, unworthy of trust. Our wolves stirred, restless and drawn to her, but we fought them, reminding ourselves of her lineage. Her father’s blood ran through her veins, and she had tainted herself, robbing us of the respect and devotion we might have given her.

Under different circumstances, we would have cherished and protected her as our mate, would have treated her as the other half of our souls. But knowing she was Vladislav’s daughter, knowing she hadn’t waited for us, stripped all possibility of love from the equation. We had waited, kept ourselves for her—until we heard those vile rumors, the reports of her reckless ways. Now, love was nothing more than a bitter fantasy.

We made a silent vow, a pact that resonated through us: we would take what we needed from her, reclaiming our strength and magic, but we would never give her the affection or respect that might have been hers. She was a means to balance the scales, to make up for what Nikolay had stolen from us. If fate had tied us to her, then she would pay that price.

If Nikolay had ever experienced even a fraction of the pain he’d inflicted on our families, he would have wiped out the North in vengeance. Yet we were showing more mercy than he deserved, more restraint than he would have shown us.

Killing her was off the table—she was our mate, and as Valkin Alphas, we could not destroy her without damaging ourselves. But we would make her pay in other ways. We would break her, shatter her as he had shattered us. No matter how fiercely our bodies and wolves responded to her, no matter how much our hearts yearned, we swore to each other that we would drive her to the same madness her father had driven into our own families.

When I told Scarlett we were fated, her face twisted with a mixture of disgust and fear, a reaction that made it clear the feeling was mutual. She didn’t want us then, and she certainly didn’t want us now. I looked at the simple dress she’d claimed, anger simmering beneath the surface. I wanted to rip it from her, to show her that she didn’t have the right to anything that belonged to us or our people. But I held back, barely.

“Let this be the last time you steal from our people,” I warned, my voice sharp, but she remained silent, her expression blank, as if she could pretend I didn’t exist. The defiance in her eyes only fueled my frustration.

“Do you hear me?” I shouted, my voice rising as my patience slipped. Still, she didn’t move or flinch, her stubbornness meeting mine head-on. Anger roared in my chest, and I raised my hand, but Clay grabbed my wrist firmly, stopping me with a steady look. He always was the softest of us three, the one who held a quiet restraint even in the worst situations. Reluctantly, I lowered my hand, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were going to have a fight on our hands with this one.

“You’ll earn your keep here,” Maxwell said, his tone hard and commanding. “If we’re providing for you, you’ll do whatever’s necessary. Nothing is free.” He didn’t wait for her response, and neither did I as she brushed past me quietly and began her assigned tasks.

We followed her to the rooms, watching as she made the beds in silence. She moved efficiently, her hands steady, her posture straight, making it clear she knew what she was doing. There was a practiced care in the way she smoothed the sheets and tucked the edges, and I realized that, despite everything, she’d likely been used to work, maybe even had to perform tasks for her father. She finished with the beds and moved toward the dining area as I pointed her in that direction.

This girl might have been defiant, but she was also steady and surprisingly composed. It was only the beginning, and yet I knew that breaking through her walls would be a challenge that none of us had anticipated.