C6 Cinderella among the wolves

My legs felt like they were sinking into the earth, as if the ground itself conspired to hold me still. The shaman’s grin stretched wide, and the alphas around him roared with laughter, clapping Beowulf on the shoulder as though he were the answer to every prayer. Their words of congratulations echoed in my ears, but they felt distant, like the sound of waves crashing far off shore.

My chest tightened, and the realization hit me like a physical blow.

I had been right all along—Beowulf was my mate.

He hadn’t even entered himself into the ceremony, yet the shaman’s magic had unveiled the truth. Our bond blazed before the entire pack, undeniable and raw—a thread so much stronger than what tethered Eliza and the enforcer.

My heart thundered against my ribs, drowning out the drums that beat in time with the shaman’s chant. Why hadn’t this bond revealed itself two years ago? Why hadn’t he felt it then?

“Fate has chosen you a great one.” Alpha Gundahar clapped Beowulf’s shoulder with pride. “My son wanted her for himself.”

I turned to see Dolph, his chest heaving with sharp, uneven breaths. His expression—betrayal, hurt, confusion—cut into me like a knife. To him, it must have looked like I’d been playing him all along, accepting his affection while secretly waiting for this moment.

My lips parted, but no words came out. What could I even say? The truth was a bitter pill I had swallowed long ago. I had always known, deep in the quiet corners of my heart, that Beowulf was the one.

“A round of applause for Alpha Zayden and his fated!” Gundahar roared.

The crowd erupted into cheers. Even members of my own pack, who had spent years whispering behind my back and treating Mum and me like outcasts, joined in. Perhaps this was their way of making amends, but their applause was a weight I couldn’t bear.

I turned my gaze to Beowulf, waiting for him to deny it, to call this ceremony a mistake. But instead, he leapt from the stage and strode toward me.

My breath caught as his eyes locked onto mine.

They weren’t warm.

They weren’t filled with joy or relief.

They were hard, cold—full of something that resembled resentment. His posture was stiff, his hands balled into fists at his sides. It was the look of someone who had run for so long, only to be caught and dragged back into the light against his will.

“You knew,” I said, my voice shaking with anger.

His jaw tightened, and he stopped just short of me. The air between us was heavy, alive with the bond pulsing like a living thing.

“Not at first,” he replied, his tone clipped.

“When?”

His eyes flicked away for a moment before meeting mine again, his defiance blazing. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” I hissed. “Tell me when you knew I was your mate.”

His shoulders stiffened, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse. Then, with a sharp breath, he answered, “The night we were together.”

The memories rushed forward in vivid detail—his hands on my skin, his lips stealing my breath, the fire of that night. My wolf stirred at the edges of my mind, her yearning blurring the line between fury and desire.

I swallowed hard, pushing the memories aside. “If you knew then, why did you act like I meant nothing?”

A shadow crossed his face, and his voice dropped to a growl. “Watch your tone.”

“Tell me, Alpha,” I snapped, my voice laced with venom.

His eyes flashed with anger. “You offered yourself without hesitation, like it was nothing. And now you expect me to believe this wasn’t your plan all along? To trap me with a bond I didn’t ask for?”

A bitter laugh escaped me, sharp and jagged. “Oh, I’m sure your little harem of distractions made it easy to forget.”

His lips curled into a sneer, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and triumph.

"You’re not making a strong case for me to stay," I said, my voice trembling with restrained fury.

“No one walks away from Beowulf Zayden,” he snapped, his tone sharp and final.

I turned on my heel. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Before I could take another step, his hand gripped my arm like a vice, pulling me close. The heat of his body pressed against mine, his voice low and dangerous in my ear. “Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for? The chance to leave behind your pathetic life? To return to your father’s legacy, to finally belong somewhere... to belong to me?”

The accusation hit like a slap. “I never wanted this. I wasn’t using you—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled. His grip tightened, his breath hot against my cheek. “You’re no different from the others who’ve tried to claim me. Once you’ve shifted, we’ll consummate this bond, and you’ll leave that run-down shack behind to live under my roof.”

“Why now?” My voice cracked, the words drenched in the weight of my emotions. “Why, when you’ve known all along?”

His jaw tightened, and his nostrils flared, but he said nothing.

My gaze darted toward the stage, where the shaman stood chanting over another couple. Alpha Gundahar’s expression darkened with something that almost resembled pity. It was clear—this wasn’t about me. Beowulf wasn’t claiming me out of desire or love; this was about his pride.

“You knew,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “And yet you said nothing. Did nothing.”

He stared at me, his silence louder than any confession.

The shaman’s chants grew louder, the drumbeats faster, echoing the erratic thrum of my heart. I tried to pull away, but Beowulf’s arm wrapped around my waist, anchoring me to him.

“There are rules now,” he said, his voice firm and unyielding. “No University, no male friends, no disobedience. And you will not challenge my harem.”

My head snapped up, eyes blazing. “You expect me to be one of your... pets?”

His lips twitched into a cruel smirk. “Jealous?”

“I couldn’t care less,” I spat, even as my stomach churned with betrayal.

He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over my ear. “Then why are you trembling?”

I shoved against his chest, but he barely budged, standing firm as if mocking my efforts. “I don’t want you,” I hissed, my voice shaking with equal parts rage and defiance.

He chuckled, low and dark, the sound reverberating through me in ways I despised. “You don’t have to want me,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “But you need me. Your mother needs me. Reject this bond, and I promise, no one will lift a finger to protect her.”

The threat struck like a dagger to the chest. My vision blurred with tears I refused to shed.

“Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

“Because you’re mine,” he said simply, as though it was an undeniable truth.

The drumbeats reached a crescendo, and the shaman’s voice rose in a final chant. Pain exploded through my body, searing and all-consuming. I cried out, clutching at Beowulf as my legs gave way beneath me.

He held me tightly, his hand pressing against my back. “Breathe,” he commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos surging through me. His magic washed over me, dulling the sharp edges of the agony but never truly easing it.

I gasped for air, the bond between us tightening like a noose around my soul. “I... I can’t...”

“You can,” he growled. “Now choose. Accept the bond, or live as nothing—a wolf without a pack, a girl without a home.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks as every option burned like ash in my throat. There was no escape, no freedom. My wolf stirred within me, clawing at the walls of my resolve.

“I hate you,” I whispered, the words as much for him as for myself.

Beowulf’s lips brushed against my temple. “Hate me all you want,” he said softly, almost tenderly. “You’re still mine.”

The words tore from my lips before I could stop them. “Yes.”

The pain eased instantly, leaving me trembling and hollow. Beowulf grinned, a predator savoring his victory.

“You’ll regret this,” I rasped.