His Ugly Mate

Alpha Kane.

"Hey, all of you, make your way over here! Let's start fires all over the place!" I shouted with glee, my voice ringing out across the clearing, echoing through the trees and the laughter of my friends. While playing with my friends, armed with arrows and fiery enthusiasm, I couldn't help but laugh at the sheer thrill of it all, the exhilaration coursing through me like electricity. It was the best game we had ever played, an exhilarating blend of adventure, danger, and camaraderie that made our hearts race and our spirits soar. Each moment felt alive with possibility, and I cherished every second.

Indeed, we were all fifteen at that time, brimming with youthful energy and a reckless sense of invincibility that often accompanies the teenage years, where the world feels limitless. However, we were also part of the royal family of the Blue Moon Pack, a lineage steeped in tradition, expectations, and a myriad of responsibilities that weighed heavily on us. As the heir apparent to the Alpha position, I felt the weight of my father's legacy pressing down on me, a constant reminder of what was expected of me, even amidst the carefree antics of youth that we indulged in so often without a second thought.

My best friend, a wild spirit with a penchant for mischief and an ever-present glint of excitement in his eyes, yelled at me, "No, don't wait, Kane!" He was trying desperately to stop me from doing something reckless, something that could have serious consequences, but the thrill of the moment consumed me, and I felt invincible, as if nothing could touch me in that moment of pure adrenaline.

But dammit! I just released the arrow, and in a split second, it soared through the air with a sharp whoosh, landing squarely in the Beta's house, a loud thud echoing in the stillness of the clearing. The signal was clear: "Run, guys, run, or they will catch us!" I shouted, urgency fueling my voice like fire in my veins, the excitement of the chase igniting something primal within me. Without a moment's hesitation, I sprang to my feet and started to run, my heart racing with adrenaline, the thrill of the chase propelling me forward into the unknown.

One of my closest friends, breathless and concerned, approached me with a question that hung heavily in the air like an ominous storm cloud threatening to unleash its fury. "Kane, what if the Beta wasn't home, and he didn't have the time or anyone else to help him stop the fire?!" His eyes were wide with alarm, reflecting the seriousness of our reckless game as panic crept into his voice, making me realize for the first time the potential fallout of our actions.

But I brushed off his concern, laughing it off as if it were a trivial matter, a small bump in our exciting adventure. I didn't give much thought to whether or not I should return because, at that moment, there was no way to turn back. The thrill of running away from the consequences overshadowed any lingering guilt that might have tried to surface in my mind, drowning it out in the rush of adrenaline and excitement.

And it was imperative that no one else find out about what happened, or else my father would surely kill me, a thought that sent chills down my spine. The strictness of my father was legendary, especially when it came to me and the other members of the royal family, who were held to an unyielding standard. He held us to an unyielding standard, and any misstep could lead to severe repercussions that none of us wanted to face, a fate worse than death in our eyes.

"Do not talk about today's incident ever again; forget about it completely… Is that clear? Or else my father will put us behind bars," I commanded, my voice firm as I outlined the dire implications for my friends. Fear and loyalty mingled in their eyes as they nodded in understanding, their expressions turning serious as they grappled with the weight of my words, realizing just how dire our situation had become.

In the years that followed, all five of us—the five closest friends—made a pact to completely forget about that day, sealing it away in the vault of our memories. It became a secret, a whispered memory buried deep within us, even as we grew older and life took us in different directions, scattering us like leaves in the wind. The bond we shared, forged in fire and laughter, became a hidden chapter of our lives, one we chose to ignore, even as the shadows of our past loomed large.

Ten years passed like the blink of an eye, and all that we were left with regarding the fire incident was the knowledge that the Beta had permanently lost that house, reduced to ashes, and that his daughter had suffered injuries in the chaos, a painful reminder of our reckless youth. That was something everyone in the pack was acutely aware of, a cautionary tale that circulated among us like folklore, reminding us of the consequences of our actions, and how quickly things could spiral out of control.

I never inquired further about the incident because I didn't want to know the details, fearing what I might uncover. Ignorance was, in this case, bliss, and I preferred to keep my distance from the painful history that lingered in the shadows of our past, haunting the corners of my mind like a ghost that refused to be laid to rest.

Now, at twenty-four years old, I stood on the brink of a new chapter in my life, feeling the tides of change swirling around me like a storm on the horizon. In just a few months, I would turn twenty-five, and at that point, I would assume the mantle of leadership over the Blue Moon Pack, a role that came with immense responsibility and expectation. The weight of responsibility loomed ahead, exciting yet daunting, a double-edged sword that both thrilled and terrified me, a moment I had been preparing for my entire life.

During a particularly intense sparring session, where the clang of swords and the grunts of effort filled the air, my father abruptly hauled me aside, his expression serious and unyielding, as if the fate of the world rested on this conversation. "Now, follow my every command, Kane. It is imperative that we speak," he instructed. His tone was authoritative, leaving no room for argument or defiance, and I felt a knot of anxiety form in my stomach, the kind that made my heart race with uncertainty.

Immediately after that, I called out, "Wait for me, guys..." as I turned towards my friends, who were still engaged in their own sparring matches. They paused, glancing back, their laughter fading into a mix of curiosity and concern, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Their expressions mirrored my own uncertainty as they awaited my return, a worry that hung heavy in the air like a storm waiting to break.

My father strode into his office, motioning for me to follow him inside, the gravity of the situation settling heavily upon my shoulders. "Lock the door behind you and come here," he instructed, his voice low and intense. It sounded so strange, as if he had discovered something I had done wrong and was about to confront me about it, something I dreaded more than anything else. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing the gravity of the moment and the tension that filled the space between us.

Finally, I managed to croak out, "Yes, your highness. May I ask what it is? Has something not quite right taken place?" My heart raced, a mix of anxiety and anticipation coursing through me like a wild river, each second feeling like an eternity as I awaited his response.

He frowned, raising his brows in a manner that suggested the gravity of our conversation weighed heavily on his mind, a storm brewing behind his eyes. "Yes! In order for me to give you the throne, you must be mated," he declared, his proclamation hanging in the air, heavy with implications, reverberating in my ears like a thunderclap that demanded my attention.

My eyes widened in surprise, shock washing over me like a cold wave crashing against the shore. I couldn't contain my excitement, the thought of finding my mate filling me with an electric thrill that surged through my veins, igniting a spark of hope within me. "Okay, when will I pick my mate, then?" I asked eagerly, my curiosity piqued, my mind racing with possibilities of who she might be and what our life together could entail.

He crossed his arms over his chest, a sign of authority and resolve that I had come to respect and fear in equal measure, a reminder of the power he held over my future. "You should pay for the mistakes you've made in the past, so..." He paused, his words lingering in the air like a charged storm cloud, and I felt my heart race in anticipation, wondering what he would say next.

Then, abruptly, he cut off his previous words, leaving me hanging in suspense, my breath caught in my throat as I awaited his next revelation. "I have chosen a mate for you. Don't fret about it, okay? All that is required of you is to become her mate," he stated, his tone final, leaving no room for discussion or dissent, and I felt a rush of emotions collide within me, a mix of excitement and trepidation.

"But shouldn't I go see her and introduce myself before we talk? And what about the mistakes I made in the past? I don't understand!" I exclaimed, my mind racing with questions and uncertainty, confusion swirling like a tempest within me as I struggled to grasp the implications of his words.

"That's all there is to it! It's not too late to get ready for tonight's mating party; just go," he replied, his voice leaving no room for argument. I was almost speechless, grappling with the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me when he gestured for me to leave, his expression one of finality. As I stood there, processing everything, I felt the weight of my future pressing down on me, both terrifying and exhilarating, a turning point that would define my destiny in ways I could hardly begin to fathom.

Rosy.

I stood before the mirror, a large, imposing structure that reflected not just my physical form but the turbulent storm of emotions swirling inside me, a tempest that threatened to consume my very being. It was a battle of feelings, a chaotic swirl of despair, anguish, and self-recrimination that raged within me like a violent storm. My voice echoed loudly in the empty room, filled to the brim with self-loathing as I yelled at my own reflection, "Everyone hates you! Simply put, it's because you have a terrible appearance. You will never, ever be able to leave this house alive. You will remain confined to this location indefinitely, just look at yourself in the mirror! You will never find someone to love you. No one ever will!" In a fit of overwhelming rage and utter despair, I used my bare hands to shatter the mirror into a thousand glimmering shards, each piece reflecting my anguish, my pain, and the distorted image of who I was on the inside, a fractured version of what I had once hoped to be.

My father, Beta Franco, heard the crash echoing through the vast expanse of the house and immediately burst into the room, anxiety and worry etched deeply across his face, a mask of distress that made my heart ache. He quickly took in the sight of my bleeding hand and exclaimed, "Sweetheart! What the heck happened?" His voice was a mixture of concern and confusion, a father's instinct kicking in as he rushed to my side, his eyes wide with alarm, searching for the source of my distress, desperately wanting to understand and fix what was broken in our world.

I sighed heavily, the weight of my emotions crashing down on me like a tidal wave, pulling me under into a sea of despair. My voice dripped with sadness and frustration as I replied, "Nothing, father! But honestly, you should not keep mirrors in my room! Never once have I come across a mirror anywhere in this entire home, and yet here I am, faced with this horrific reality! I can't stand the way I look! I am my own worst enemy. Sometimes, I just wish I could die and escape this torment that follows me every waking moment, haunting me like a relentless ghost, always lurking in the shadows of my mind, whispering doubts and fears that drown out any flicker of hope."

As my dad enveloped me in a bear hug, I could have sworn I saw tears welling up in his eyes, glistening like tiny stars against the dim light of the room, a reflection of his own heartbreak. I'll never forget that moment; it was etched in my memory as a paradox of love and pain, a bittersweet reminder of our bond, of the love we shared despite the darkness that surrounded us. He did his best to sound authoritative, desperately trying to uplift me with comforting phrases like "You are my baby girl" and "You are beautiful," but they felt hollow and distant, like echoes in an empty canyon, reverberating through the silence that surrounded us, unable to penetrate the thick walls of my despair.

But in that moment, I burst out laughing uncontrollably, a bitter sound that filled the room with a strange mix of mirth and sorrow, and I scoffed, "Be honest with yourself, father! Look at my horrible swollen face and the burns all over my body! I look like a beast! How can you say those things with a straight face? It's absolutely absurd!" My laughter felt like a twisted coping mechanism, a way to mask the pain that threatened to engulf me, an attempt to turn my anguish into something that resembled joy, even if only for an instant.

He gently cupped my face, his hands warm and steady, and moved his fingers delicately across my cheeks, whispering, "You are not a beast! It was an accident, and you should be adaptable, learning to accept and make yourself accustomed to that." His words were meant to soothe, but they felt like a bandage over a deep, festering wound, a temporary fix for a problem that ran far deeper than skin, a wound that had been carved into my soul, leaving scars that would never fully heal.

I managed a satisfied smile, but my heart felt heavy, burdened with the weight of my reality, a reality that felt like a heavy chain dragging me down into the depths of despair. "Yes, get used to being ugly! I was just ten years old when it all happened, and I hadn't shifted yet, so my body couldn't heal the scars! Now, after ten long years of torment, you expect me to adapt and live like a monster for the rest of my life? How could you speak to me in such a manner? I really wish I could just end it all and take my own life to escape this agony that consumes me day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute, a never-ending cycle of suffering that suffocates me."

"That was in the distant past!" he countered gently, trying to inject some hope into the conversation, his voice a soothing balm against the rawness of my pain. "In addition to that, you are now twenty years old, and..." He continued to speak, but I couldn't hear his words; they faded into a distant murmur, drowned out by the cacophony of my thoughts. Even after all these years, his comfort could not ease the pain that had been gnawing away at my chest, a relentless ache that refused to subside, growing heavier with each passing moment, like a stone lodged in my heart, crushing my spirit beneath its weight.

I had never been permitted to engage in play, make friends, or even attend the royal school for education, a life of isolation that had stunted my growth. It felt as though I were a prisoner, locked away behind those tall, imposing walls, doing everything there was to do within the confines of my lonely existence. Each day bled into the next, an endless cycle of isolation where I felt like a ghost haunting my own life, drifting through the hallways of a home that felt foreign and unwelcoming, a place that should have felt safe but instead felt like a cage.

"Did you know that the son of our maid, Melissa, had a nervous breakdown when the veil fell off my face? Are you aware of how much that stings?" I shot back, my voice laced with anger and hurt, my emotions spilling over like a dam about to burst, flooding the room with my pain, drowning out any semblance of understanding or compassion that may have existed.

He rubbed his hands together, trying to find the right words to comfort me, and finally said, "Everything will be good now... Tonight is the night of your mating ceremony." His words hung in the air, heavy and unsettling, like a storm cloud threatening to unleash its fury, a portent of change that I was unprepared to face, filling me with dread and uncertainty about what was to come.

After he left the room, I raised my eyebrows and stuttered, "What do you mean by that?" Panic began to rise within me, a tide of confusion and fear crashing over my heart like waves against a rocky shore, each wave pulling me deeper into a whirlpool of anxiety and dread.

He motioned for the maids to enter my room, and when they did, I saw a wedding dress fit for a princess, along with other items in their hands that sparkled and shimmered in the light like mocking reminders of what I could never truly be, a dream that felt impossibly out of reach. “Father! What exactly is going on?" I questioned, bewildered, my heart racing in my chest, pounding like a drum in my ears, the rhythm of my fear echoing through the silence of the room.

"You'll be mated tonight, too... Alpha Kane! Get ready!" he yelled at me before leaving, his footsteps echoing down the hall, fading into the distance, leaving me with a cacophony of thoughts swirling in my mind, each one louder and more chaotic than the last.

What! Alpha Kane! The very person who was responsible for ten years of my pain? But how and why is this happening? My mind raced, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within me, each thought crashing against the next like waves against a rocky shore, a tempest of confusion and fear that threatened to overwhelm me completely. I felt trapped in a nightmare from which I could not wake, a cruel twist of fate that I could not comprehend, a dark cloud of uncertainty looming over my future, casting a shadow over everything I had ever hoped for.