Kaia's POV
I wake up to three devastatingly attractive men staring at me like I'm a problem they can't solve.
My body aches everywhere—muscles I didn't know I had screaming in protest. The triple marking burned through me like wildfire, remaking every cell. I feel different. Stronger. More alive than I've ever been.
And completely overwhelmed.
She's awake, the scarred one—Darius—says without taking his gold eyes off me. He sits closest, forearms resting on his knees, coiled tension in every line of his massive frame.
Obviously, the silver-haired one—Theron—drawls from the other side. He's leaning back in his chair with deceptive casualness, but his silver eyes track my every breath. The question is: how does she feel?
Like I've been hit by lightning, I croak. My throat is raw from screaming during the awakening.
Three times, the blue-haired one—Caelan—adds quietly. He sits at the foot of the bed, purple eyes glowing faintly. Once for each mark. You took more divine power in ten minutes than most wolves experience in a lifetime.
I push myself up to sitting, ignoring how my arms shake. We're in some kind of stone chamber—the temple's recovery room, judging by the healing herbs hanging from the ceiling and the moonlight streaming through arched windows.
And I'm wearing a simple white robe that definitely isn't mine.
Who dressed me? I demand, suddenly very aware that I was naked after shifting.
Priestess Selene, Theron answers smoothly. Though Darius here wanted to volunteer.
Darius shoots him a murderous look. I was making sure she wasn't dying, you manipulative bastard.
How noble. And here I thought you were just enjoying the view.
Say that again and I'll rip your throat out.
Try it. I'd love to see you
Both of you, shut up! The words burst out of me with more force than intended. Omega power ripples through the room, making both Alphas flinch.
Silence.
Caelan smiles slightly. She's learning to use the command voice already. Impressive.
I rub my temples, trying to process everything. Okay. Can we start over? Properly this time, without the death threats?
Darius stands, and I'm reminded just how massive he is. Easily six-foot-five, built like a warrior, with scars that tell stories of violence survived. His dark hair is messy, his jaw shadowed with stubble, and those gold eyes burn with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
Darius Shadowfang, he says bluntly. Alpha of the Northern territories. I rule the Shadowfang Dominion—the harshest, coldest, most brutal pack lands in existence. My wolves are warriors. We survive through strength, and we don't tolerate weakness.
His gaze drops to the mark on my right shoulder—his mark, burning faintly under my robe. Through the bond, I feel his barely controlled rage, his bone-deep possessiveness, and underneath... old grief he won't acknowledge.
You're my mate whether I like it or not, he continues roughly. And I don't share.
Too bad, Theron interrupts, rising with fluid grace. Where Darius is brutal power, Theron is elegant danger. Perfectly sculpted features, silver hair that somehow looks intentional instead of messy, and a smile that probably gets him anything he wants. Theron Silvercrest. Alpha-King of the Eastern territories. I rule the Silvercrest Empire, the wealthiest, most politically complex pack in existence.
He circles closer, and I catch his scent—expensive cologne, old books, and something darker underneath. Through the bond, his mind is a chess board, already calculating moves I can't see.
My mark is over your ribs, he says, voice smooth as silk. Close to your heart. That's no accident. His silver eyes gleam. I'm very good at getting what I want, sweetheart. And I want you.
Romantic, I mutter.
Caelan stands last, moving with an otherworldly grace that makes him seem like he's not quite touching the ground. He's beautiful in an unsettling way—sharp features, midnight blue hair, those purple eyes that see too much.
Caelan Nightshade, he says quietly. Alpha of the Western territories. The Nightshade Covenant is the oldest pack, descended from the original werewolf bloodlines. We carry magic alongside our wolves.
He steps closer, and reality seems to bend slightly around him. Through the bond, I feel his strange calm—and the weight of too much knowledge.
My mark is over your heart, he continues. Because I've been waiting fifty years for you. I've seen you in visions since before you were born. I've watched possible futures where we meet, where we bond, where we— He stops, jaw tightening. Where we die. I chose to be at that ritual knowing what might happen. Because some futures are worth the risk.
Fifty years. He's been waiting fifty years for me.
The weight of that crashes over me.
This is insane, I whisper. I don't know any of you. Yesterday I was nobody—a weak wolf everyone ignored. Now I'm supposedly bonded to three Alphas who rule entire territories?
Not supposedly, Darius corrects. Actually bonded. The marks are permanent.
Can they be removed?
Yes, Theron answers carefully. With a burning ritual that will scar your soul and might kill you anyway. The pain is... legendary.
My stomach drops. So I'm stuck with you.
We're stuck with each other, Caelan says. The bond works both ways. We feel your emotions, your pain, your pleasure. And you feel ours.
As if to prove his point, I suddenly feel them through the marks. Darius's frustration and unwanted attraction. Theron's curiosity and calculating interest. Caelan's devoted certainty.
It's overwhelming and intimate and completely terrifying.
You have to choose one of us, Darius says bluntly. One mate. Reject the other two. That's how this works.
The Council will demand it, Theron agrees. Three Alphas bonded to one Omega is illegal. It hasn't happened in a thousand years, and the last time it did—
War, I finish quietly. The Priestess mentioned it. Thousands died.
Exactly. Theron leans against the wall, arms crossed. So the Council will force you to choose. One mate. The other two get their marks burned away and banished from your life forever.
What if I refuse?
Then they'll execute all of us to prevent the war. Caelan's purple eyes glow brighter. I've seen that future. It's not pleasant.
Horror floods through me. They'd kill you? Just for being marked?
They'd kill us to preserve peace, Theron corrects. The Council believes four deaths are preferable to thousands. They're not wrong, politically speaking.
This is insane! I stand up, ignoring how my legs shake. The Goddess chose this! She marked me to all three of you! How can they demand I reject divine will?
Because they're terrified, Caelan says simply. An Omega bonded to three Alphas is the most powerful combination in werewolf history. You could command entire packs. We could unite all territories under one rule. The Council's power becomes meaningless.
So they'll kill us instead?
If necessary, yes.
I stare at my three mates these powerful, dangerous males who I met less than two hours ago—and feel the weight of impossible choices crushing down on me.
I won't choose, I say quietly. I won't condemn two of you to death just because the Council is afraid.
Then we fight, Darius says immediately. We take you somewhere safe and prepare for war.
Which proves their fears right and gets thousands killed, Theron counters. We need to be smarter.
I've seen possible solutions, Caelan offers. But they require trust. Complete unity between all four of us.
We're rivals, Darius snarls. Our packs have hated each other for generations.
Then we'll have to get over it, I snap. Because I'm not choosing. I'm not—
The chamber doors slam open.
Elder Marcus stands in the entrance, flanked by the full Council of Elders—twelve ancient wolves radiating cold authority. Behind them, I see dozens of guards.
Kaia Thornwood, Marcus announces formally. Step forward and hear the Council's judgment.
My three Alphas move instantly, forming a protective wall between me and the Council.
She's under our protection, Darius growls.
Your protection is exactly what we're here to address. Marcus's gaze is merciless. The triple marking has been confirmed. By ancient law, this situation must be resolved before it threatens pack stability.
The Goddess herself— Caelan begins.
The Goddess gave you marks. We give you law. Marcus steps forward, power radiating from him like heat. Kaia Thornwood, you have been marked by three Alphas from three rival territories. This bond threatens the fragile peace we've maintained for centuries.
I didn't ask for this, I say, voice shaking.
Nevertheless, here we are. His expression doesn't soften. By the authority vested in this Council by all pack territories, we declare the following: You have thirty days to choose one Alpha and reject the other two. The rejected marks will be burned away in a sacred ceremony. The chosen bond will be recognized as legitimate and binding.
And if I refuse?
Then in thirty days, all three Alphas will be executed in front of you. When you're broken from the severed bonds—assuming you survive—you will also be executed. This prevents war and ends the threat permanently.
The words hit like physical blows.
Choose one or they all die.
That's insane, Theron says coldly. You're asking her to condemn two of her mates—
We're asking her to prevent thousands of deaths, Marcus interrupts. The last triple marking resulted in the War of Three Alphas. Entire packs were slaughtered. Territories burned. We will not allow that to happen again.
The Goddess chose this, I protest weakly.
The Goddess also gave us free will and intelligence. Marcus's eyes bore into mine. Choose wisely, Omega. Thirty days. Not one day more.
He turns to leave, the Council following.
Wait! Desperation claws at my throat. There has to be another way!
Marcus pauses at the door. There is. In thirty days, make your choice. Or accept the consequences.
They leave, the chamber doors slamming shut with terrible finality.
Silence.
I sink onto the bed, shaking. Thirty days to choose which two of my mates die. Or refuse and watch all three get executed.
We'll figure this out, Darius says roughly, kneeling in front of me. I swear to you—
How? My voice cracks. How do we fight the entire Council? How do we—
Together, Caelan interrupts quietly. He and Theron move closer, the three of them surrounding me. The prophecy speaks of unity. Perhaps that's the answer.
What prophecy?
His purple eyes glow brighter. The one that says the triple-marked Omega will either unite the packs or burn them all to ash. The Council fears the burning. But I've seen the other future—the one where you don't choose. Where you claim all three of us instead.
Hope flutters weakly. Is that possible?
It's never been done, Theron admits. But then again, neither has a triple marking in a thousand years.
Through the bond, I feel all three of them waiting. Hoping. Ready to fight the entire world if necessary.
Thirty days, I whisper.
Thirty days to find a way to keep all three of you alive.
Darius's hand covers mine. Whatever happens, little wolf—you're not alone anymore.
And as my three Alphas close ranks around me, I make a silent vow:
In thirty days, I won't choose.
I'll break every rule instead.