Fated to the Alpha–And His Triplet Brothers novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18: Perfect dream

~Hazel’s POV~

I didn’t ask for this. Not any of it.

Not the fate that chained me to wolves. Not the marks that branded me like a possession. And certainly not a wedding that felt more like a punishment than a promise.

I never wanted to belong to a world where my value was discussed across council tables, where elders debated my worth like I was a commodity. A pawn on their board. Disposable. Replaceable.

What happened yesterday... shouldn’t have happened.

I had gone to Cayden with one purpose—to reject him. To sever that bond before it rooted too deeply. Before it swallowed me whole. But things didn’t go as planned. The room had felt too small, his presence too consuming, and the fire that passed between us—whether it was fate or foolishness—ended up sealing us instead of freeing me.

I could hate myself for it, but what use was hate now?

The deed was done.

And now... we move forward.

I stood before the tall mirror in the bridal chambers, surrounded by chaos. Maids pulled and tugged at my limbs as they tried on one gown after another. Silk scraped my skin, lace scratched at my ribs, and every dress felt like a costume tight, suffocating, all wrong. Not a single one made me feel like a bride.

Tomorrow was the wedding.

My wedding.

I tilted my head, staring at the reflection. Who was this girl staring back? She looked like a ghost pale, lifeless, silent. The two bite marks on her neck stood out like fresh ink on parchment. One from Cayden. One from Caspian. Proof that I no longer belonged to myself.

Step-mom Selene finally snapped.

"Which one of these will suit you, you shapeless girl?" she hissed, her eyes scanning me like I was a problem that couldn’t be solved. Then she pointed toward the corner of the room, to a faded yellow gown folded on a stool. It looked dusty and old, something pulled out of a forgotten closet.

"That one should do."

I nodded.

Not because I agreed, but because I was tired of fighting. Tired of caring.

But then, a sharp twist pulled in my chest. No. My lips parted slightly, and the words almost escaped. I wanted to scream no. I might not want this wedding, I might hate everything it stood for, but even I deserved more than that ragged piece of cloth. No.

But the voice in my head reminded me don’t give her that satisfaction.

Don’t beg...Don’t cry.

Don’t let her see you fall apart, Hazel.

So I stood tall. If she wanted to humiliate me, let her. I would wear that dress with a smile on my face, chin held high, because I had something she couldn’t control.

I had them.

I had their marks.

The very thing her precious daughter Natasha wanted so badly she could taste blood.

A maid slid the dress over my shoulders and zipped it up. I turned to the mirror. It wasn’t hideous, just wrong. It clung to me in all the wrong places, didn’t complement my body, and it definitely wasn’t me.

Nothing like the dress I imagined as a little girl.

I used to sit by my window, staring out at the sky until the sun burned my eyes. I’d imagine my wedding day barefoot on a beach, a soft breeze playing with my veil, a man waiting for me at the altar with his arms outstretched and eyes only for me. We’d exchange vows with the ocean as our witness.

But that girl was long gone.

This one was stitched together with silent grief and forced composure.

That was when the doors burst open.

Natasha stormed in, followed by her faithful shadows, Lilian and Sophia. The scent of money and malice filled the air as they swept in like royalty.

"Mother, how do I look?" Natasha twirled, wearing a white gown that sparkled with beads and gold embroidery. It shimmered like it cost more than my life.

She looked like the bride.

I looked for help.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify