CHAPTER 73: _ AWAKENING CEREMONY (ISOLDE’S MATE)

Isolde isn’t sure she heard right. Did Auro—her wolf, just growl about sensing their mate? The word thrums in her skull. Mate. Her chest tightens.

She flicks her gaze around the corridor, searching for anyone who could possibly fit that label, but there’s literally no one nearby. Just her, Darien, and the endless hallway. Maybe she imagined it. Maybe Auro’s just restless. She shoves the thought down and narrows in on the more pressing problem—her brother.

One would think Darien’s priority today would be attending the mate ball. If not because he’s interested in finding his mate, then to make their mother happy. However, he’s just telling her he won’t be attending the ball.

This is Darien, the apple of their mother’s eye, the golden boy who never so much as breathes wrong in her presence. He follows her orders like they’re sacred scrolls handed down by the Moon Goddess herself. He makes her look like the reckless rebel child—and now suddenly he’s the one deciding not to go to the ball?

Something is very, very wrong.

"It’s weird," she says slowly, striding quickly to catch up with him again. "Weird, Darien. You love Mother so much you’d probably walk into a volcano if she told you to. You do everything to satisfy her, you’d probably polish the Council’s shoes if she asked. But now you’re defying her? Skipping the ball, of all things? What am I supposed to think of that?"

Darien finally tilts his head toward her, exhaustion written into every line of his face. He’s just opening his mouth to reply—Isolde braces for some kind of explanation, maybe even a confession...

But they’ve arrived.

The suite building is ahead. It’s tall and luxurious with its arched entryway lit by a row of lanterns glowing gold. As the heavy double doors swing open, a wave of laughter and voices hits them first.

The NAY boys. Isolde rolls her eyes at the thought of being around Nash and Ace for two nights. Lucan, however, is her dream guy, so she doesn’t mind his presence. As for his two jackasses friends? Ugh... she can’t stand even the thought of them.

"Gods. What makes the school think these dummies can get through three days in the same building with us?" Darien groans beside her.

However, that’s the last thing Isolde hears before she feels her pulse leap into her throat the second her wolf roars awake again.

" MATE!" It’s so loud in her head she almost stumbles back into Darien. She doesn’t realize she’s gripping the railing of the suite lobby so tightly that her knuckles bleach bone-white.

No. No, no, no. Her heart sinks like a stone dropped into a deep well, the ripples colliding with every logical argument she’s ever had against fate. She blinks, certain she must have misheard. Her wolf has to be playing some joke. But her gaze like a magnetic lock, fixates on Nash of the NAY boys, and the world goes eerily still.

Nash. The Beta’s son. Tall, broad, and with blond hair that always falls just-so into his annoyingly perfect face. Mischief is always written in the corners of his mouth, so that you’d see it even if you closed your eyes.

The one boy, Daphne Bellamy—her baby sister, has been moon-eyed over since she was old enough to spell "crush." The one boy Isolde swore she would never, ever give the satisfaction of noticing.

And yet here she is. Her wolf has her tail up and hackles buzzing as they waggle inside her head. "Mate. Mate. Mate."

"No," Isolde whispers, too quiet for anyone else to hear. Her lips almost don’t move. She’s shaking her head before she realizes it, wishing for the universe to reverse, and begging her wolf to take it back.

But Nash’s eyes are on hers. Those molten hazel eyes only widen a little, but it’s enough. He heard it too—or rather, his wolf did. The recognition booms through the air like a gong no one else can hear.

Isolde swallows hard. She wishes, fervently, painfully, that it were Lucan instead. The quiet and dark horse – just like her. Lucan, who leans against the far arm of the leather couch in his usual shadow, says nothing and watches everything. He has depth, mystery, and stillness.

Not like Nash, who seems to think shirt buttons are optional and decency is negotiable.

But no. The Fates, those merciless hags with a horrible sense of humor, have pointed a glittering arrow at Nash’s chest and declared: This one. This disaster is yours.

Her wolf purrs in response to her thoughts. "Yes, Isolde. He’s ours."

Oh, Auro doesn’t get it, Isolde nearly dies. Nash is not a mate. Nash is heartbreak and tears. She has been praying for an unproblematic mate who would have no problem leaving the pack with her to go live normal lives, but Nash?

He’d die before sharing that dream. He’s too egocentric, pompous, and lazy to abandon the luxurious life he has here and come explore an average one... with her.

What’s this? Is the Moon Goddess against her? Isolde wonders. Why make her goals harder to achieve when she’s literally losing her damn mind in this godforsaken pack?!

"Gods above," She breathes, dragging a hand through her hair as if she could somehow brush away destiny with her fingers.

Darien doesn’t notice. He’s locked in his own tension. Across the lobby, Ace, the Gamma’s son, whose mouth is always quicker than his fists, is already smirking.

"Hehe," Ace drawls, standing lazily from the couch and stretching like a cat that’s about to scratch. "Look who finally crawled in. The precious Bellamys. Tell me, Darien, does that Alpha blood of yours taste as cheap as it looks? Because funny thing—we were told only Alpha wolves could hit the highest mark on the striker. But there’s an ordinary boy out there who did it just fine. Makes you wonder if your bloodline is as rare as you strut it to be."

The lobby stills. Lucan’s head turns as he senses the barb.

Darien, however, doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t do verbal sparring... never has, and never will. He straightens, jaw tightening, his tall frame exuding the kind of power that doesn’t need words.

"I already told you before, Ace," Darien says in an almost bored voice. "I don’t do fights with my tongue. If you’ve got something to say about my blood, challenge me. Physically. We’ll see how long your smirk stays on your face."

Isolde puffs out air. Her brain is split cleanly in half. One part of her is screaming at Darien not to take the bait. The other part is screaming louder about Nash, who hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken, and hasn’t breathed since her wolf declared him hers.