Fated To The Tyrant Alpha

“Amelia!” I heard my stepmother’s voice echo through the hall when I was just about to round the corner.

My body stiffened instinctively and pressing my back against the wall, I peeked around the corner just enough to see Margaret standing in the corridor, with her hands perched on her hips like a hawk scanning for prey.

“Have you seen Amelia?” Margaret asked a maid passing by with a mop.

The maid shook her head nervously. “No, Luna. Not since this morning.”

Margaret clicked her tongue in irritation and strode off in the opposite direction, skirts rustling against the floor.

I exhaled slowly and turned back the way I came, because I wasn't ready to face Margaret today, of all days. A day I wanted to spend quietly, honoring the woman who had given her everything. But as usual Margaret would be searching for me, ready to hand me meaningless chores until the day slipped by unnoticed. And Hunter, ever eager to impress “Mother,” would no doubt be lurking somewhere too, ready to taunt me.

Sighing, I turned down the corridor toward my room.

“Lady Amelia!”

I turned to see a maid that was breathless from running.

“Yes?” I asked softly.

“The Alpha requests your presence in his study.”

My eyes narrowed. “My father?”

“Yes, Milady.”

I could count on one hand how many times my father had wanted to talk to me since Margaret and Hunter arrived after mother died. Which meant that my father rarely called for me unless there was some task to criticize. So what could he possibly want now?

“Thank you.” I said, masking my unease with a calm tone as I hurried through the halls.

When I reached the study, I knocked once and entered.  “Good morning, Father.” I greeted him, lowering her head respectfully.

Alpha Gerald barely looked up from the papers on his desk. “Sit.”

I obeyed, settling into the chair opposite him.

Without preamble, he slid a portrait across the desk toward me. “Tell me what you think of him.”

I studied the picture and couldn't deny that the man was striking with brown-hair, a clenched jawline and hazel green eyes.

“He looks… handsome.” I admitted carefully, unsure where this was going.

“That’s Killian Storm, Alpha of the BlueMoon Pack. He’ll be arriving by the end of the day and staying at the inn.”

My eyes lifted, puzzled. “Why not here at the Packhouse?”

“As per tradition…” Father replied. “The groom is to stay separate from the bride’s home until the wedding.”

I froze. “Whose getting married?”

“Yours, of course.” He looked at me as though I was slow. “It’s not as though Hunter can marry a man.”

“And why can’t he?” I shot back. “If he can’t, then why should I?”

“Enough! You will not make a mockery of this arrangement.” Gerald’s jaw tightened. “The Pack is struggling and we’ve lost resources, allies, and trade routes. This marriage will give us security as Killian’s pack is strong, and prosperous. And you marrying him will unite our territories and stabilize everything.”

“So that’s it.” I laughed softly, but there was no humor in it, only bitterness. “After years of trying to prove myself to you by training intensely , handling disputes, and running errands for the Pack, this is what I’m worth to you? A bargaining chip?”

“You’re thinking like a child.” His expression hardened. “This isn’t about you, it’s about your people who need this alliance.”

“Oh, now they’re my people?” I snapped. “You’ve spent years reminding me that I’m nothing like you and that Hunter was your true heir. But suddenly, when you need someone to sacrifice their life for the Pack, I’m yours again?”

Gerald rose to his feet. “Enough, Amelia. You will do your duty.”

I stood too. “I will not be used to cleaning up your messes.”

“Don’t be selfish.” His eyes narrowed. “Your mother would’ve done this.”

“No.” My lips trembled for a second before my anger returned to full force. “My mother would’ve fought for this Pack, not sold herself for it.”

We stared at each other in silence, then I stepped back. “If this is truly for the Pack, then perhaps you should marry him, Father.”

Without waiting for his reply, I turned on my heel and walked out of the study. The door clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against it, pressing my palm against the wood to stop myself from falling.

“They always find a way to ruin your memorial mother.” I muttered bitterly, my voice barely above a whisper.

First, it was taking my mother’s room, then her jewelry, her garden, and every reminder of the woman who once ruled this Pack with grace and strength. And now, on the very day meant to honor her, they wanted to sell me off to strengthen a Pack my father himself had weakened.

Hissing, I pushed off the door and stormed down the corridor toward my room. Inside, I grabbed the first book I saw from my shelf, an old leather-bound one I'd read a dozen times and tucked it under her arm then I made my way outside.

The cold breeze brushed against my face as I stepped off the Packhouse steps. I hadn’t gone far when a familiar, mocking voice stopped me.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our precious princess.” Hunter drawled, leaning casually against a pillar, with his arms crossed. “Are you sneaking out to cry again?”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to look at him. “Not now, Hunter.”

He smirked, circling me like a predator toying with prey. “Father must've told you about the marriage proposal. Honestly, you should decline because I don't believe any sane Alpha would…”

I shoved him hard in the chest, cutting him off mid-sentence. “I don’t have time for this.”

Hunter stumbled back, surprise flashing across his face before twisting into a sneer. But I didn’t give him the satisfaction of another word, I turned and walked away.

I would’ve gone to the Pack square to clear my mind, but I knew it would already be crowded with merchants and tourists. So instead, I turned north, toward the forest.

The moment I stepped past the treeline and smelt the earthy scent of pine, I was instantly reminded of simpler times, when me and my mother used to walk these paths together.

I found a sturdy oak, climbed up with ease, and settled into a thick branch. There, I opened the book and let the world fade away. It wasn’t until the distant howl of wolves echoed through the forest that I blinked back to reality and saw that I'd lost track of time.

I sighed, snapping the book shut. “Great.” I murmured, jumping down from the tree. “Father will probably have my head for this.”

I started walking back toward the exit when the faint crunch of leaves behind me made me freeze. I turned slowly and my heart stopped when a massive werewolf emerged from the shadows, its eyes glowing amber, with saliva dripping from its snarling mouth.

Before I could react, two more dropped from the branches above, surrounding me in a loose circle. My pulse quickened, and I shifted my stance, my claws extending from my fingers as my wolf stirred beneath her skin.

One lunged forward, but before she could strike, a dagger whistled through the air and buried itself deep in the creature’s skull causing it to crumple instantly.

The others froze, growling in confusion, their eyes darting toward the direction the dagger came from and I followed their gaze. From the darkness stepped a tall figure, and when the moonlight caught the edge of his jaw, my jaw dropped.

I watched as Killian Storm twirled another dagger between his fingers before letting it fall still. “Are you hurt?” He asked, his gaze never leaving the rogues.

I nodded and the remaining wolves snarled, and Killian moved as fast as lightning. While

I watched, stunned, as he cut down the last rogue effortlessly. When silence finally settled over the clearing, my heart was still pounding.

Killian turned toward me, his expression unreadable. “What were you thinking, being out here alone at this hour?”

I stared at him, still catching my breath.

What are the odds that the man I refused to marry would end up being the one to save me?

Fate really has a sense of humor.