Chapter 4. The Rules

Caliana’s POV

I had known, in theory, that the Chasia brothers were domineering men. Everyone in the west knew their reputation. Stories traveled faster than caravans—whispers of cruelty, power, bloodshed, and unyielding authority. I had read about them, heard people speak their names with a mixture of fear and awe. But knowing something and witnessing it with your own eyes were two very different things.

Seeing them like this—seated together, relaxed yet lethal, exuding raw dominance as naturally as breathing—was something else entirely.

They looked like gods carved out of stone and sin. Broad shoulders, hard expressions, bodies that spoke of violence and victory. Their auras pressed down on me like invisible hands, making the air feel thick and heavy in my lungs. My wolf whimpered inside me, instinctively aware that I was surrounded by apex predators. She wanted to submit, to curl inward and make herself small.

I refused.

I forced my spine to straighten and my chin to lift. I was an Alpha’s daughter. I would not bow from fear alone.

“Hello, Caliana.”

The voice was smooth, pleasant, almost disarmingly warm. A man stood from the table, tall and handsome, his movements measured and polished. From the countless articles and photos I had seen online, I recognized him instantly.

Jamal Chasia.

The second brother. The face of the company. The pack’s beta.

He looked like he belonged on magazine covers rather than battlefields—golden skin, kind eyes, a charming smile that could put anyone at ease. But I knew better. I remembered the words I had read once, buried deep in an article written by a trembling journalist.

The golden angel of the west.

Angels, I had learned, could be just as deadly as demons.

“Hello,” I replied softly, my voice betraying a hint of the nervousness I tried so hard to hide.

Jamal reached for my hand, his touch gentle and deceptively reassuring. He guided me toward the table, pulling out the chair beside Alpha Edward.

Beside my mate.

Edward didn’t even look at me.

The rejection hit harder than I expected, a sharp sting right in my chest. I swallowed and took my seat anyway, my hands folding in my lap to keep them from trembling.

“Caliana, welcome to the family,” Jamal said warmly, as if this were a celebration rather than a transaction sealed with blood and power. “These are my brothers—Marcus and Marcos, the twins.”

My gaze flickered to the men seated across from me. They were both undeniably handsome, identical in build and stature, but subtle differences set them apart. Marcus had dirty blond hair and warm brown eyes, much like Jamal. Marcos, on the other hand, looked far more like Edward—jet-black hair, sharp features, and mesmerizing gray-blue eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

They lifted their hands in acknowledgment, nodding curtly. No smiles. No words. Just silent assessment.

My stomach tightened.

“Do I have to introduce her to you, brother,” Jamal asked lightly, glancing at Edward, “or will you do that honor?”

Edward sighed, a sound filled with irritation, as if my very existence exhausted him. He didn’t look at me, didn’t speak. He simply leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze distant.

Why did he hate me so much?

“Well, I’ll do it then,” Jamal said smoothly, as if used to filling the silence Edward left behind. “That one there is Edward, the eldest.”

As if I didn’t already know.

I nodded, my eyes betraying me as they darted toward Edward’s face, searching for something—anything. A nod. A glance. A sign that I mattered even a little.

There was nothing.

Something inside me cracked quietly.

As dinner began, I tried to focus on my plate, on the polite clinking of cutlery, on anything other than the suffocating presence beside me. But the conversation quickly turned dark, as if the brothers had forgotten I was there—or worse, didn’t care.

Marcos and Marcus spoke animatedly about their latest kill.

Casually.

Like men discussing the weather.

“I gave his heart to the wild wolves,” Marcus said, his tone almost cheerful, “and their master’s bodies to my lions. It was exciting.”

My fingers tightened around my fork.

“Wasn’t the other guy alive though?” Marcos asked with interest.

“Yes,” Marcus chuckled. “That was the best part.”

A chill crawled down my spine, icy and nauseating. My appetite vanished in an instant. I felt my throat tighten as bile rose unexpectedly. I took a sip of water, but it only made it worse.

“I think we should host games like that during festivities,” Marcos added thoughtfully.

That was it.

My stomach lurched violently. I barely had time to push my chair back before I was gagging, my hand flying to my mouth. I rushed toward the nearest sink, barely making it in time before everything I had eaten came back up painfully.

The sound echoed in the room.

I heard laughter behind me.

Low. Amused.

Humiliated and shaking, I rinsed my mouth, gripping the edge of the counter until my knuckles turned white. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. Instead, I slipped away quietly, my feet carrying me upstairs on autopilot.

I dressed for bed in a simple black silk dress, my movements slow and heavy with exhaustion. My reflection stared back at me blankly, eyes dull, shoulders slumped. I crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to my chest as if they could protect me from the reality pressing in on all sides.

I had just closed my eyes when the door opened.

My heart leapt into my throat.

Alpha Edward stepped inside.

He didn’t bother closing the door gently. His presence filled the room instantly, overwhelming and dangerous. His gray eyes were sharp, predatory, locked onto me with an intensity that made my breath hitch. He walked toward the bed with slow, deliberate steps, like a hunter cornering prey.

I tightened my grip on the sheets.

He placed one knee on the mattress, leaning over me, his hand reaching out to grip my chin. He tilted my face upward, forcing me to meet his gaze.

My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst.

My wolf howled in delight, thrilled by the proximity to her mate, by his touch, by his scent wrapping around us like a promise she desperately wanted to believe in.

“Hello, mate,” he murmured.

His voice was deep, rough, intoxicating. My breath stuttered, my body betraying me as heat pooled low in my stomach. A smirk tugged at his lips when he noticed.

Then he pulled away.

The sudden loss of warmth felt cruel.

“I just came to tell you the rules,” he said flatly, retreating to stand at a distance.

“What… what rules?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes. Longing. Conflict. Something dangerous and fragile. Then it vanished, his expression hardening into cold stone.

“You are here to please me,” he said without emotion. “I will do as I want. You cannot run away, because I will find you—and I will kill not only you, but your entire pack.”

The words landed like blows.

“And lastly,” he continued, his gaze slicing into me, “no one will know about our bond.”

Before I could speak—before I could beg, protest, scream—he turned and left, the door closing softly behind him.

I lay there in silence, my chest tight, tears burning behind my eyes.

I refused to cry.

If he didn’t want the bond, so be it. I would survive this. I always had.

Still… a question lingered, heavy and cruel.

Was this truly the life destined for me?

A life bound to a mate who rejected me, ruled by fear, silence, and loneliness?

The thought wrapped around my heart like a vice, and for the first time since arriving, I wasn’t sure how much more I could endure.